Fated to be Ours
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: For three years they have been watching her. Eclipsed by the emerald hue of their inhibitions that surrounds them, they've kept a careful eye on the woman that had been destined to become theirs since the dawn of time. The beautiful maiden remains blissfully unaware of the mounting attraction that's slowly blossoming between the three of them Au, non-canon, DracoxHermionexBlaise
1. 1

_x-X-x_

 _Chapter One_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Slughorn's Party_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

X.x.X

Born from the ambition of scalding touches

Worn like a shroud of fruitful need

That makes sweet remembrance of

A calling of longing and impartial tune

Collide together and become one

As fated to become ours

X.x.X

* * *

 **Saturday November 2, 1996**

In the faintly lit room of his professor's personal quarters sat a perfectly petrified young man around a large, round table. In front of him was a lovely meal of savory steak, mixed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. Those around him may have said that he was staring unknowingly into oblivion, but they weren't in his position. In front of him sat a wonderful woman, whose hair had been curled delicately just for the occasion. She wore a nice navy blue dress with a lacy outer layer. Underneath was solid and covered more modestly than the other dresses he's glanced at since the beginning of the evening. It was a simple, casual affair between secretly selected individuals that had drawn their Potions professor's attention.

Slughorn was a strange, little man with even stranger tastes. Blaise Zabini, though reserved to only stealing glances at the beauty across from him, could not believe the people had been invited to the dinner. Slughorn's 'collection', as he called them, consisted of some highly questionable individuals that didn't even merit a moment of his precious time. Blaise had only agreed to come for one reason. He would see her. And that was worth more than an evening of annoying banter and incredibly boring escapade stories that their Professor seemed to advocate.

Blaise turned his head slightly to the left where Slughorn sat going on about his journey across London during his younger years. As his head turned, as if interested it the poor bloke's tale, his eyes swept over the exquisite little maiden in front of him. Hermione Granger sat looking eternally bored, picking at her food and moving it about her pure white plate in golden swirls. Blaise had taken a keen interest in her small habits, having found it rather odd that she wasn't eating yet again. This would be the third time she'd dodged eating the meal Slughorn had prepared them. Perhaps her trust wasn't as deeply planted as he suspected. He could vouch for that because he hadn't taken a single bite either.

If he had been the one to prepare the meal, he would have gone about it in an entirely different manner. It wasn't only during these little rendezvous that he'd watched her. He certainly wasn't the only one. He knew of another man that'd taken an interest in her. Blaise had talked to him, seeking out the man's advice before he left. He shared everything he could with his friend. He wasn't surprised that he was told to make sure she ate. Even if Blaise had to offer her something, she was not to go to bed hungry. Not tonight, at least.

He watched carefully as Hermione sighed softly under her breath. The blabbing of the professor sitting beside him covered for her exhalation. It was under such circumstances that he wanted to engage her, to urge her to talk, or to at least take a couple of bites of her food. She had been gradually losing her appetite during the course of the last several weeks and neither he nor his friend could figure out why. They kept a tight vigil on her at all times, accompanying her from afar to her classes and escorting her safely to the Head's Room at night. Neither of them allowed her to be alone. As disastrously uncivil of them as it was, they couldn't bear if something happened to her under their watch. As a result, they had developed their own way of communicating, allowing each other to reach out at a moment's notice.

"And, what do your parents do, Granger?" Slughorn asked without preamble. Even in his drunken state he was deeply annoying.

Blaise turned to her politely as she glanced nervously at Slughorn.

"Both my parents are dentists." She told him. It was an unsettling thing to say since no one but her knew what a 'dentist' was. Blaise was kind enough to hold back his remark, although he wanted nothing more than to display his research, but he couldn't. He had been warned. "They tend to people's teeth."

"Sounds like a dangerous profession," Slughorn grumbled. "Have your parents ever gotten hurt ten-tending to people's teeth, as you say?"

"No," she paused, "although, this one boy did bite my father." Hermione let out a small, nervous laugh.

A mockery. How ridiculously outlandish of Slughorn to even ask her what her parents did when he clearly didn't give a damn. The only one he had eyes for was Potter, and as far as Blaise was concerned, his parents hadn't done anything noteworthy. Maybe it was the Pureblood in him, but he hated Potter for his proximity to Hermione. So much so that he cursed him for befriending the girl, not because a Muggle-born such as herself didn't deserve to have friends, but because he was allowing his emotions and feelings to get the best of him. It wouldn't be the first time that they had pushed past his strict mental and physical barrier. She was breathtakingly brilliant and beautiful in every aspect. He just couldn't contain himself knowing that Potter was just a whisper away from brushing his sleeved arm against hers, or that he could listen to her soothing voice whenever she spoke to him in hushed whispers.

 _You're becoming tense, Zabini. What has gotten you so angry?_

 _Potter,_ he transmitted to his partner through the convenient use of the ring on his left hand. _He's practically touching her._

 _Calm down, my friend. You cannot allow your anger to overpower you,_ his friend advised.

Blaise inhaled deeply, allowing the soothing words of his companion to assuage any built up anger and dispose of itself through his body. He exhaled, repeating the calm regimen several times until he felt a little better compared to the beginning of the evening. He felt substantially better knowing that his companion was just a thought away. However, his thoughts were all too tempting.

One of the most shameful thoughts was provoked from the awakening doubt that began to blossom inside his chest as he sat there, listening to the foolish stories of another male that had noticed Hermione. All alone with his destructive thoughts, Blaise could not contain the heinously tormenting thoughts that sprang to his mind every time his thoughts travelled to the man that sat several seats down. If it was not for Hermione, he would have declined the invitation entirely, to save him from the disgusting scene before him. With every sweep of the man's tongue over lips, his own anger rose. Every suggestive and utterly horrid glance was directed at Hermione. Though apparently oblivious to the workings of a male's mind, she was able to ward off most of his advances. A brilliant girl, Blaise commended her for her ability to rid herself of unwanted looks and focus her attention on more important matters, even if it included acting as if she was the least bit interested in what his parents did. Hermione's charm and politeness would prove to be her ruin one day.

Suddenly, he felt a considerable shift in the air. Concerned, he turned to Hermione, watching as she muttered something to Potter. A flash of worry spread over his face as well as his own, but he was quick to hide the assaulting expression and push the emotion away.

"Are you sure?" He heard Potter say. "I could take you back to the Head's Room. It's no problem, 'Mione."

She shook her head, looking more ill with each passing second. "No, stay. I'll take care of myself."

He didn't seem willing to sit by when he knew something was deathly wrong with his friend. "Alright, but if anything happens send me your Patronus. I'll be there to assist as soon as I can."

Hermione agreed just as the plates before them vanished. She managed to get past Slughorn, giving him the same excuse she had given to Potter. He, too, was concerned, but not nearly as legitimate with his understanding. He simply wished her good night and said he hoped she felt better by Monday morning. A pitiful display when Blaise knew something was wrong. It couldn't be a simple flu that caused a healthy girl like her to not to want to eat, pass out at random times, and struggle to function properly due to lack of sleep. He was aware of her late night dates with her textbooks and rolls of parchment. Sometimes, she stayed up late into the night and by morning she had to take a potion just to keep herself afloat throughout the day. However, there was something more sinister at work than just lack of sleep and he was determined to find out what.

Blaise looked over his shoulder, making sure she at least made it to the door until he stood and excused himself as well.

"Are you sure, Zabini? Dessert has just arrived." Slughorn looked at him imploringly, seeming not to want to lose two students in one evening.

He nodded. "Yes, sir." He could have easily offered him some false excuse about not feeling well but that would have put more distance between him and Hermione. More distance than he wanted, that's for sure. Instead, he bid Slughorn goodnight, not bothering to say it to anyone else. He was more comfortable with less company and he had a witch to catch before he discovered her lying on the floor as he had on one other occasion. He did not want a repeat of that horrible episode. Without another word, he let himself out, barely listening to the banter between Slughorn and the blasted prick McLaggen. The over-righteous bastard should be killed for the suggestive looks he had given Hermione. At least Blaise slept better knowing that the witch had absolutely no feelings for him, nor would they come to the surface in the near future.

Blaise broke into an abrupt run as he tried to locate the missing witch. He had grown frantic the moment he set foot outside Slughorn's quarters. He could sense her distress, a remarkable little connection they shared with one another. The link between the three of them was strong, but he hoped and prayed it would strengthen once he and his companion presented her with their proposition.

It wasn't really a contract that they hoped she would consent to. Through the intricate workings of Fate, they were somehow bound to one another. Blaise and his friend had known since their third year, coming to the realization at the beginning of the fall term. It had been a startling epiphany, one that they both were all too willing to submit to. Fate was a wondrous mistress and they both owed her the opportunity she had given them. And Hermione was the Forbidden Fruit that they would do anything to consume.

He sensed her distress a few feet ahead of him. Not wanting to delay any longer, he broke into a sprint until he ran into the witch he had been following. Barely hanging onto the wall, Hermione looked as if she was going to fall at any second. He reached out, wrapping his arm appropriately around her waist.

"I've got you," he told her in a low voice, helping her stand.

She glanced over him. "I-I'm fine. Just… a bit..." a wave of dizziness swept over her and she grabbed for the wall to steady herself. She sniffed at having been found in such a vulnerable state.

Blaise helped her until she was able to stand on her own. "Steady, now. Hold onto the wall."

She obeyed him and for a moment he allowed the electric buzz of dominance to surge through him. Images of her underneath him appeared, causing him to be momentarily distracted. She felt so perfect against his frame. Though barely touching him, he felt like she belonged there by his side.

He knew perfectly well that she felt it to. The incredible surge of magic danced around them, bringing them together in a pleasant, erotic closeness of sexual hype and longing. Gods, it was more than just wanting to feel her skin; he wanted all of her. Every last fiber of her being felt like an extension of his own body. He could feel every harsh gasp as she struggled to breathe, as well as her excited heart thumping rapidly inside her chest. And there was something else that lingered within their souls and bodies, something that Blaise hoped would soon unite them.

Before he had time to react, Hermione had managed to retrieve her wand from the purse she had brought with her, murmuring an incantation under her breath. It was a weak, unstable image, but it was strong enough to shoot out from the tip of her wand and chase the gathering light from whence it came. He watched as her otter was swallowed up by the darkness.

Blaise didn't know whether to stay with her or leave. Potter was sure to be suspicious if he were to find Blaise with his arms strategically around her waist. A compromising position, indeed. No doubt he would lash out and demand why he was there with her. He fought with himself for several seconds until coming to an agreeable conclusion.

He would leave, but only once he made absolutely sure she made it to the Head's Room where he knew his friend was waiting impatiently in his own chambers for her to arrive. The two of them had finally resolved some of their differences and constructed some inkling of a friendship. It was relatively new, but strong. With a willingness to grow into something more, Blaise felt content with that half of the relationship. Now all he had to do was work on his half.

"I must go," he told her in a quiet voice. His hand curved naturally around her waist. Internally, he groaned when he felt just how fragile she was underneath her dress. This illness, whatever it was, was draining her of health. They needed to find out what was making her so sick.

Hermione's hand made contact with his own and for a moment he thought that maybe she'd let him escort her back to the Head's Room. Instead, she pushed his hand off her body as she tried to grab onto the wall once more. She stumbled, falling to the ground. Quiet sobs escaped her mouth, tears running down in uneven tracks. It pained him greatly to see her in such a deplorable condition.

Blaise knelt down and gathered her in his arms.

Hermione immediately stopped crying and looked into his deep, black eyes.

"H-how?"

He stared at her. "Pardon?"

"How is it possible?" she whispered. "I felt so horrible just a second ago. I-I feel so…"

Blaise wanted to tell her. The connection between them, the mutual pull towards each another- it wasn't a work of brutal fantasy. It was real. As real as the glowing decadence that ignited in the otherwise harsh abyss of his eyes. Perhaps it was the connection between them that eased her.

"I-it's so s-strange," she whispered, leaning into his body. Her breath hitched. "H-how is it possible?

He didn't quite understand what she meant, but he decided not to ask. "Can you stand?"

She shook her head. "No, but maybe if you helped me..."

A willing soldier at her command, he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, careful not to touch anything he shouldn't. It was a torturous task, especially after she had spilled her little secret. He wasn't hurting her, thank Salazar. Not that he would ever deliberately hurt her, anyway.

Hermione leaned into him, putting most of her weight onto him, allowing him to act as a concrete foundation supporting her. Hesitantly, she curled her arm in a half-hug around his torso. She angled her head carefully, bringing her lips close to his neck. An unnoticeable shudder coursed through him with the velocity of a thousand Firebolts. Never had he felt anything as tantalizing and greatly unsatisfying as her touch. Skin to skin, ghosting against him in some inevitable collision that he feared would never come.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, pulling away from him much too fast for his liking.

Blaise nodded stiffy as her body brushed teasingly against his own.

Out of nowhere there was a loud, reverberating bang as they both pulled away, just in time to put considerable distance between one another. Blaise sent a fleeting glance at Hermione before removing himself completely from the scene. Hidden behind a cloud of darkness, he pressed himself against the wall around the corner from the corridor, beyond her vision.

"Hermione." It was Potter. "Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't. He could easily tell him that. He could feel the pain building within her. It was astonishing what one little sweep of the fingers, or brush of the elbow could provide for relief. He felt her agony, her restlessness. He could feel just how drained and unkempt she was, a staggering blow to his already stressed mind.

Sweet Salazar. Blaise wanted to touch her again. He wanted to feel just how velvety her skin was underneath her clothing, hear her screams of ecstasy, and kiss her lips. He had gotten a taste of her delectable skin and he could barely resist the urge to grab her and touch her again.

He was getting ahead of himself. There was absolutely no doubt of the connection they shared, but he couldn't allow his desires to get the best of him. He stood there and listened.

"Can you stand?" Potter asked, sounding worried.

Hermione made a whimpering plea. "I-I can't," she cried.

"Should I call Madam Pomfrey? Hermione?"

Blaise's heart clenched when the distinctive sound of a body falling to the ground stirred the quiet corridor. It took every bit of his willpower not to go back and help her. Instead, he pushed back his reservations and walked away, tormented by the thought that he could have reached out and helped her but couldn't find the courage to do so.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat silently on his bed, irked by the unnatural quietness of the small common room outside. Night had fallen not too long ago, but he was too unconcerned by the ponderous workings of the dwindling sun to care.

No, his mind was filled with more worrying thoughts: he had lost the connection with his companion almost an hour ago, and he couldn't figure out why he would shut him out so violently and suddenly. With no reasonable explanation for his unmannerly escape, Draco was left to contemplate the night's events alone.

Seemingly untouched by the uncooperative and overly imaginative scape that he called his mind was an imageless motion picture that he had yet to call meaning to. He knew very well that his friend had been extremely nervous and riled up about the evening that lay before him. Taunting him with horrid pictures, his mind had run rampant with an ungodly amount of speed and endurance. As if plagued by the same thing that was ailing her, his friend had lost control of his body and slipped into a realm that he could not escape, and Draco couldn't reach. It was a haunting thought to think that Blaise was unconsciously submitting himself to sickness; though it was highly unlike him to let anything dethrone him and wreak havoc on his life, he was not without a temper. His reasoning was simple, but completely unbecoming of him. Understandable on one hand, and utterly stupid of him on the other. Draco could understand his choice to experience the same thing she was experiencing, but it would be far more beneficial for all to seek healthier alternatives and sustain them for the duration that was needed to figure out the cause of her illness.

It was a noble cause to seek retribution for the thing that was hurting her. Draco was definitely not alone in this, nor would he condone taking such a journey alone. Blaise was just as much as part of it as Draco was, and it would be horribly wrong of him to keep him out of his plans and anything that revolved around them and their little Gryffindor Princess.

Draco felt bitterly content. Though not as temperamental as he had been, he was still not satisfied. Hermione had yet to come back from Slughorn's dinner party, which he had not been invited to. If he had been, things would surely have turned out differently.

He knew that she had not eaten. Except for a couple sips of Firewhiskey (courtesy of their dear Potions Master), she hadn't eaten. Draco had begged Blaise to make sure she did, but it seemed that his task was not fully completed. In fact, homage hadn't been paid to the Goddess at all. Blaise would no doubt get an earful the next time Draco saw the conniving Slytherin. He would make sure of that, as he should have made sure Hermione was eating despite her lost appetite.

With a strained sigh, Draco ran his fingers through his wet hair. He had recently taken a bath to assuage the burning need to seek the two of them out. The bath had been a failure – it made him even more worried about the pair.

Was Hermione alright? What about Blaise? Was she on her way back and had he arrived at the Slytherin dormitory unscathed?

So many damn questions were rearing their ugly heads. He couldn't think properly and almost missed the distinct sound of the portrait of their shared dormitory opening. Being Head Boy really did have its unique perks; otherwise he wouldn't be able to keep a watchful eye on Hermione. They had formed some semblance of a friendship and understanding in the recent months. It was developing nicely, and he had just gotten them on a first-name basis. He could not say the same for Blaise, who had always been a bit unpredictable with his emotions and feelings. As erratic as they were, he had developed an effective way to cope with what Draco was certain were difficult aspects to have.

Draco suddenly felt extraordinarily at ease while at the same time unnaturally anxious. He was beyond pleased that Hermione had made it back, hopefully in one piece. His companion's negligence would have to be addressed tomorrow, when he was in a better state of mind. All he wanted to do now was to make sure Hermione ate before he retired to his chambers for the night.

He stood, conscious of his own need for slumber.

It was late, nearly midnight by then, and his nerves were finally laid to rest. He crossed the large span of his chambers, grabbed for the door and turned the knob. That was when he heard the voices.

"Set her down on the couch there," a woman said softly. "That's it, carefully child. We don't want to distress her in any way."

Draco did not know who the other individual was until they spoke. "Are you sure it's okay to stay here?" Potter asked, sounding stressed. "Wouldn't she be better off in the Hospital Wing?"

"She's exhausted, not dying Potter," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "How did she ever get into this position in the first place? Studying well into the night, perhaps?"

"She is known to do that, yes," Potter agreed half-heartedly. "But I don't think that's what's causing her to be so exhausted, Madam Pomfrey. She's always been very erratic with her studying habits, but she's found ways to cope, even with sleep deprivation. What else could possibly be causing this?"

"It's hard to say," she told him. "If Granger isn't depriving herself of sleep, then I don't know what else could be causing her to lose her appetite and faint." Madam Pomfrey shuffled around and seconds later she told Potter, "Keep an eye on her. If this happens again I will admit her into the Wing. Otherwise, she must stay here and get some well-deserved rest. That's all we can do for her until then."

Draco wasn't the least bit pleased that Potter was occupying space within their common room. It took every ounce of willpower not to barge in there and demand he leave. Pomfrey was as much of a waste as he was. What kind of nurse couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why someone was losing sleep or not eating? He was fuming when he was brought back to the conversation between his adversary and the nurse.

"I'll inform Professor Snape as well. I'll have him brew some potions for her take that will aid in her recovery. I will return in the morning to administer them to her. In the meantime, monitor her. Make sure she takes nourishment and drinks plenty of liquids, as the Muggles say, yes?"

"Yes," said Harry warily.

"Shall I inform the Head Boy?" she asked politely. "Perhaps it would be wise to inform him about her condition, seeing that he spends a great deal of time with her on a daily basis."

A surge of reluctance swept over Draco; he could feel the tension embedded in the words.

"No, I'll tell him. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Potter said after some time.

There was silence for a moment until the portrait swung open and left both Draco and Harry to contemplate their next move.

Draco was the first to act, having spent the last two hours dreading the worst. He needed to see if she was alright. If that meant being cruel to Potter and demanding he leave, he was hardly one not to take an opportunity when it presented itself. Even with the sensitive state he found himself in, at least he'd find amusement in tormenting her best friend.

Slowly, he opened the door and as he did, he caught Harry's eye. Draco sneered at him, presenting him with the best disgusted and outrageously uncivilized expression he could construct.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "Party too boring so you decided to grace me with your presence? Unfortunately for you, I'm about to retire for the evening. You'll have to come back some other night to be humbled by me."

"I'm not here to _grace_ your presence, _Malfoy_ ," Harry spat. "Hermione fainted and I'm here to make sure she's taken care of."

"She's in perfectly capable hands." He narrowed his eyes threateningly, hoping it would scare him off. However, it made him all the braver and unreceptive to his uninviting demeanor. So much for getting rid of him. "I will watch after her since you can't manage. I'll inform Madam Pomfrey with any changes regarding her state."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. Draco knew that he wasn't particularly fond of the friendship that had formed between him and Hermione, not that he had ever cared about his opinion one way or the other. Draco, although forced to keep silent, wasn't too thrilled about the circumstances either. In fact, if the cards were solely in his favor and Blaise's, he would come right out and say exactly what he was thinking, but he stopped himself from uttering those words. His main concern was Hermione and that was the only person that truly mattered. Besides Blaise, he could care less about what Pottie and Weasel thought. Their opinions were mundane annoyances, and he wished they would disappear.

"How do I know I can trust you, Malfoy?" Harry asked after some time. "After all these years, you're suddenly concerned about her? What are you playing at, really? Who are you trying to fool?"

"I'm not trying to fool anyone, Potter. As Head Boy, it is my duty to ensure the safety of all students, including Granger. Surely you can vouch for that, hmm? As Captain, isn't your duty to ensure that your players are safe? It is the same concept."

"That example has some relevance, but this situation doesn't include whose house is superior. This has to do with something entirely different."

"And what, may I ask, is that something?"

Harry inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "Something is plaguing her."

"And you think I may have something to do with it?" he accused. "How incredibly kind of you to think that I would have the capacity to harm another student, much less formulate such a horrendous plan to execute someone. Are you sure you were sorted into the correct House, Potter? You would have made a great Slytherin if it weren't for your egotistical ways. Even Slytherins have limits."

"Oh, how true that is."

Draco took a double take, not exactly understanding the true meaning behind his words. As deceptive as Slytherins were, their feelings were never feigned. They were true disguisers, manipulators of attractions that served a higher, more selfless purpose. Anyone could be the deliverer of all ends, but it took a truly remarkable devotion to achieve it.

"I've been watching you," Harry continued, slowly circling him as if he were a specimen that needed to be examined. "And it's amazing what kinds of things one can learn when they open their eyes and look."

"What are you going on about?"

"You're attracted to her," he said simply and carefully. There was tension in his voice as he spoke. Clearly, he did not want to say the wrong thing, fearing that it would set Malfoy off.

Draco's senses went into overdrive. No matter how perfectly contrasted their personalities were, he couldn't conceal the truth from her best friend. After months of planning, he was not going to allow some scrawny prick to take away the only chance he may have to get close to her.

"Who says I'm attracted to her?" Draco said in a strained, harsh voice. It literally hurt him to speak ill of her.

"I've seen the way you look at her. You and Zabini," Harry said accusingly. "Your friend may be hard to read, but I know by the way you act and look at her that it resonates within him."

"What are you implying?"

"You care about her, Malfoy. Otherwise, your little friendship wouldn't have formed and you wouldn't be standing here right now, looking as if you were about to commit murder."

Draco made to move but stopped himself. He would not stoop so low and hex the little Gryffindork bastard. Merlin help him, he would not allow him to make a mockery of him!

He exhaled sharply, exasperated. "As part of your destiny, you find ways to torment me to no end," he said quietly.

"You have a rather odd way of expressing yourself, Malfoy. It's unlike like you to deliver such revealing statements." Harry's words were a blow upon his very core that Draco wished he could refute. He continued to refrain from lashing out.

"Look," Harry began slowly, "I know we have never been on the best of terms-"

"Understatement."

"-but I am willing to work with you. I care about her," he eyed Hermione's sleeping form carefully. Draco glared at him but was quick to return to his normal sneering expression. "She's my best friend. If anything were to happen to her, I don't know what I'd do. Something is bothering her, and I'm willing to do anything to find out what it is. Even team up with you, Malfoy, if you're willing to be civil with me. Your choice."

Draco could not express appropriately what was swirling around in his mind. Him help Potter? What kind of absurdity was that? Was the world coming to an end? He certainly hoped not, no matter how cataclysmic his words sounded. If they were going to come together for the greater good, it would be under his terms and not some fabricated regulations set by Potter. He needed to be in control. He needed that stability and reassurance.

"Fine, I'll help you," he said. "But we go about it my way."

"And what does that entail?"

"Zabini will help us."

"No." Harry was quick to dismiss Malfoy's best friend. "I don't want him to help."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust him. I don't even trust you, but you're the only one other than Ron that has a connection with her. Trust is a very valuable thing and isn't just obtained by greed, but through perseverance and respect."

Draco frowned. "If you do not want me to help, then why bring it up?"

"Because she trusts you. If she can trust you, then so can I."

"She trusts me?" Draco was beyond stunned that Hermione would trust him, even a little.

Harry nodded, taking a moment to look at the sleeping girl. "More than you deserve, but she trusts you. However, she doesn't trust your friend. Don't ask why. She's always felt uneasy about him."

Draco was completely shocked that she hadn't extended that blessed feeling to Blaise. If he were there, he would be just as mortified, if not more, since he was the most stressed about the entire situation. How could Draco go about telling him? How on earth would he take the news? Gods, the Fates were entirely too unreasonable and cruel with their plans! There had to be a way that they could strengthen the relationship between the two without eliciting the interest of the Fates, subjecting them to more trials and hardships.

"He either helps us, or we have no deal," Draco said darkly. "Blaise is more than capable and completely trustworthy. It's not our fault that they haven't socialized with one another." He stopped, before coming to the decision he didn't want to work with him at all. "Forget it. I don't have time to deal with you. It's late, so I suggest you hurry back to your tower before I deduct points for being out late, being with an unconscious girl, and doing inappropriate things to her."

Harry's eyes widened before his expression settled into one of disgust and rage. "You're sick."

"No, I'm perfectly healthy, Potter. Thank you for being so concerned about my welfare, but I don't need you to look after me."

Harry scowled at him before glancing briefly at Hermione. Her breathing was stable and she appeared to be resting quite well. Content with knowing that his friend was safe for now, Harry moved away from the couch, but not without addressing Draco.

"Somewhere deep down you care," he sneered. "One day, you'll realize it and hopefully it won't be too late. In the meantime, the offer still stands, but I will be doing my own research until you find the nerve to approach me." He paused suddenly, something flashing across his face that Draco almost missed it. "Whatever you're planning, stop. I don't want her to get hurt, and if you are capable of caring about someone other than yourself, then you'll put her best interests at heart."

"I already have her best interests at heart, Potter, and right now that's taking care of a loud, obnoxious boy that continues to disturb her sleep."

Draco watched silently as Harry swept past him in a fury of unresolved rage. A grin spread across his face. Silence was his only company.

 _You care about her, at least a little._

He stood there for a moment before the words, "More than you will ever know," caressed the air.

Finally, left only with his thoughts, Draco glanced at Hermione and drank in her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful as she slept. So blissfully unaware of what had transpired just seconds ago, Hermione shifted slightly on the couch.

Slowly, he walked over to the couch and crouched down, allowing his elbows to rest on the edges of the cushions. He raised his hand and brushed the tips of his fingers against the curve of her cheek. She stirred slightly, and for a heart-clenching moment Draco thought he had awoken her. Thankfully, she settled back down, removing herself from the crook of the back the couch and moving to the other side. She rested silently on her right side, breathing steadily and showing no signs of distress. Exactly the way Draco wanted to see. One touch of his fingertips was all it took to calm her. He could not imagine what more than a simple brush of his fingers would do.

Draco tensed, feeling the same magical charge that he had felt earlier that evening. He didn't know what Blaise had done, where he had touched, but he could feel the same sensations course through him as he traced her lips carefully with his pointer finger. It was an incredibly scintillating, powerful, and erotic current. With each second, he could feel her magic seep into him, filling his body to the brink of explosion. He continued to touch her, to explore her face with his hands until the urge to lean forward and kiss her took over. His lips briefly touched hers, too quickly for him to completely enjoy the plumpness and sweetness of her lips. Draco watched with awe as she responded so unbelievably well to his touch. As he pulled away, he knew for certain that Fate wasn't making a mockery of him.

Hermione was meant to be theirs, and he would travel the world and go through any trial to make it a reality.

* * *

He lay awake for several hours. Dawn was just scaling the horizon and all he could think about was the intimate moment they had shared, one that he wished had included him. Blaise could still feel the feel of his lips as they brushed against hers, practically tasting her delectable mouth, her alluring taste, against subtle pull of his lips. He was so overtaken with lust and desire that it scared him. With knowledge previously unknown to him, he felt a rush of raw magic, want, and need emerge from the depths of his soul. It was with this yearning that he continued to hold onto hope, praying that he would have the same chance as his companion had.

The thought of her not trusting him was already beginning to put an incredible strain on him. After three years, he was no closer to fortifying his position with her, nor was he any closer to assuaging her negative feelings toward him. He had hoped with time that she would grow to accept him as he had accepted her three years ago.

But he felt strangely unsatisfied.

He hated the fact that he wasn't as entwined with them as he wanted. His companion had been able to create a stronger relationship, yet he himself felt utterly hopeless and unguided. With no prevailing wind to push him in the right direction, he lay there with thoughts of the coming day.

Granted, it would take time. With certainty, they would be able to unite. But he could only hope and pray that his companion's words were absolute. If, in fact, Hermione was theirs, then they would find a way to get her.

If Fate tried to intervene again, he would fight for the love of their shattered souls against their treacherous attempts to keep them separated.


	2. 2

**_A/N down below_**

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Chapter Two_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **October Tuesday 29, 1996**

It has been almost two weeks since that faithful night. As Draco prepared himself of another grueling week of studying, tests, and practices unworthy of even the smallest ounce of his acceptable credit, he could not help but be pulled back to the night of the Dinner Party held by their Potion's master. The night when everything came crashing down, spreading itself so vividly open in front of him. It was not a predicament that he alone could go about without guidance. With that thought, he regrettably accepted that he may have to visit his dear Godfather before day's end. If he would allow him a bit of his time, he saw it as nothing more than something that could eventually be helpful towards his cause.

And, what would that be?

While his hands skimmed the buttons of his oxford, his thoughts ran away from him. He never contemplated what he would say to him, or to Granger.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind the absurdities that would alight within her eyes at the mere mention of their connection. An absurd thought indeed; one that would prove far more than he was hoping in the opposite sense.

Granger would not be too keen on knowing that there was some truth in Trelawney's bogus attempts to reach a plane that just did not exist. He used to be like her- book smart barely street smart. It wasn't until a certain man that his eyes opened and he got to see there was more to the world than he was lead to believe. Zabini was a rock in which he could stay anchored to forever.

An image of something completely inviting caught him off guard, and he couldn't help allow the grin from this image to spread across his face. Gods, he knew how to tempt him. If he had time, he would push open the door of his chambers and go straight down to the dungeons for a vigorous round of morning sex but he couldn't. Not when their witch was just outside his door.

He performed a simple deflation spell. Merlin forbid that he walked around with a hard-on and Granger saw it. He knew how sensitive she was to the sight of a man; two of them would just utterly unfazed her.

Poor little witch.

One day, my sweet little Lioness. He promised. By the month's end, you'll know what it feels to be wrapped around two snakes and have your entire fill of them.

Smirking at the thought, he picked up his robes and strolled out his chambers, locking it soundlessly with his wand before making his way to the little kitchenette. The scene waiting for him was one that he would never tire of.

Granger was still not dressed for class. It was only seven, and he knew very well it took her longer than normal to wake up. A good cup of coffee and some oatmeal should do just the trick. As he went to the fridge and took out the last yogurt, he couldn't help notice the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her skin.

He stared at her in the usual manner that a man stared at the woman he loved. Today, however, he could not. Especially when she looked so sickly.

The girl that stood before him, sipping her coffee and forcing herself to finish the remaining bites of her oatmeal was not the girl he knew. She looked drained, terrified, and hopeless all at the same time. Her once overly curly brown hair had lost its luster; it was not as bouncy and shiny. Her skin, always a light beige had lost a significant amount of her natural glow that it almost made look more sick than she actually was; even her freckles looked faded against the surface of her nose and upper cheeks. Once a girl with womanly curse, hips that flared out wondrously, a body worth worshipping, was now slender and noticeably malnourished. The shadows of a half-moons were hidden under some illusion charm that she had placed on herself. Unfortunately for her, Draco could see right through the façade of her adopted form.

"Granger," he alerted her attention by saying her surname. Something that neither of them were used to after so many months of friendship.

Hermione looked up from her bowl, the look of questionable intent in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk." He set his yogurt on the counter a little too forcefully. She raised an eyebrow to this but said nothing.

Draco had a sense that this would not be an easy topic to discuss. Granted, they were friends. Hell, they may as well be closer than that! Although he didn't know where he stood with her and it was entirely too early to even predict such a thing, he hoped that she would take his words as genuine concern and proceed appropriately.

"Talk about what?" she feigned innocence, even having the nerve to cough onto the back of her hand.

He narrowed his eyes until they were nothing but thin slits.

How dare she even feign anything, especially in the state that she was in! Had she no shame, no fear? Did she not know the incredible strain it has been placed upon not only herself, but others as well?

Of course not. How can she understand something that she's never been told? Instead of allowing this anger to feed upon him, Draco projected it into another form. Taking a breath, he grabbed the back of the second island chair, sat down and scooted so close that their knees rubbed against one another's.

She blushed but remained ever silent.

"I want to talk about you."

"What about me?" she coughed again. "I-if this is about my appearance, I already know. One can only be told so many times that- "

"Shut up," he growled, causing her to do just that.

Hermione looked at him, her eyes widening. Her lips parted slightly and she gasped at the rage that gleamed most vividly in his eyes.

She was extremely talkative, and it was in that moment that she learned who was in charge and who was going to have their last word and it was not going to be her.

"Always have to have the first and final word, hmm? Never once thought that maybe someone else may have something to say?"

"That isn't-"

"Enough," he dismissed her pitiful excuse. He had enough of her discrepancies. "I don't care about what you have to say, Granger. I was merely concerned about the recent health issues that has seemed to have escaped your notice."

Hermione remained silent. The only noise between them came from the birds outside the window and the erratic tapping coming from Draco as he toyed with his cup of yogurt. As seemingly nonchalant as it was, he prayed that she would be able to catch onto what he was aiming for her to realize.

All the while, Blaise's voice would not cease. Although he was the one to save her the night of the party, it was Draco who knew of the true nature of her illness. He almost missed what came out of her mouth.

"I… I-I didn't think it would matter?"

"That you're nearly on your death bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why on earth would it not matter?"

"Whatever was plaguing me," she breathed, defeated.

"You know I care, right?" The pain in his voice was evident and she turned to make sure her ears were not playing a trick on her. "Right?"

She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, I know."

"Then why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you, brought you to the infirmary, or something. Why insist on battling this war alone?"

Hermione was notoriously known to be stubborn. It was a trait that he wished wouldn't have reared its ugly head because it made it impossible to get through to her at times. So when she shook her head and pressed her arms against the counter and leaned into them, she allowed the façade that she built to fall, showing exactly what Draco failed to miss.

That was when she tried to stand.

With shaking arms and wobbly knees, Hermione rose to her feet.

In that moment's decision, something went wrong. Her eyes closed, and he caught her before she slid off her chair and hit the floor.

* * *

As soon as he sensed that she was about to fall, he rose from his chair, knocking it down, and wrapped his arms securely around her waist as they both fell to their knees. Even unconscious she was stunningly beautiful. Pale, an inch away from death- it was a haunting memorial, but he could not remember marveling at a more glorious scene.

His arms cradled her, protecting her from the cold stone floor. As she took a deep inhale of breath and let it out smoothly, Draco counted the seconds until the next crucial signal that she was still alive, still there with him. As soon as he caught her, he had sent out a Patronus to Blaise. Their connection was lost to them when Hermione fell and he would need all the help he could get to make sure that Hermione was safe before contacting Madame Pomfrey. Until then, it gave them some time to discuss the next course of action. Perhaps it was time to consult their old Potion's Master.

By the time Blaise arrived Draco had placed Hermione on the sofa and was now tending to her. Dragging a dampened wash cloth across her forehead, he hardly heard the portrait swing open with a loud bang or the onslaught of Italian curse words that was inspired by the Slytherin man.

Draco looked up from their witch long enough to address him before watching as she struggling to remain still underneath the heat of her illness.

He had taken as much clothing off as he dared. She was now lying on the sofa with nothing but a pair of knickers and a very thin t-shirt. Biting his lip and ignoring the urge to reach out and touch her, he looked back at Blaise. He seemed to be fighting the same urge as he was.

"What should we do?"

"What have you done?" came his cool response.

"Everything," he spat out. "I can't seem to break the damn temperature. It's as if she's-"

"- _freezing_." Blaise sent daggers at the heir. "Why on earth did you think taking her clothes off would help break the temperature?"

"Have you ever tended to a patient, Zabini?" growled Draco, eyes narrowing aberrantly as their attention was brought back once again to the suffering girl before them. "Shall we put her clothes back on?"

The Italian shook his head. He then proceeded to remove his robes and oxford. Draco stood there in complete awe until his entire torso was presented to him. Smooth skin, hard muscles, and a hairless chest greeted him most invitingly to his greedy eyes. However, Blaise had no patience for the stolen glances for he did not want to risk the chance that his plan might actually work.

"You think it will?" he asked, gravely scared.

The Italian looked at him and shrugged. Neither of them wanted to risk it, but they had no other choice. If Hermione was suffering because she had yet to realize who her soulmates were than it was up to them to provide every bit comfort until she did. Even if that meant without her knowledge, without civility, then they were willing to do it.

Hermione unknowingly welcomed her caretaker by rolling onto her other side and allowing Blaise to move his knee so that it rested against the cushion of the sofa. Gently, almost frightened, he leaned his weight into the accommodating piece and draped his arm across her hip, pulling her body as close as he possibly allowed. A restful sigh slipped through her parted lips and a visible hand was lifted from her, providing the ease and necessities to force the illness back into reclusion. They both sighed in relief. As she slept, Hermione turned over once again and buried her face into the crook of his neck. Blaise let out a tortured gasp.

"Fuck," he whispered, using his other hand to trap her in his embrace. "Do you think my heat is working?"

"It's certainly doing something." Draco knelt down and chuckled, which earned him a glare. "Come on, don't give me that look."

"Keep joking around Malfoy and I'll make sure you never touch her again." Blaise smoothed his hands lazily against her milky thigh. "Gods, even in slumber she is so unbelievably tempting. Why don't you join us, hmm?

"As if I wanted to join you two," he scoffed. He dragged a single digit across her hips and her response was instantaneous

She moaned, parting her lips and furrowing her brow exquisitely. A satisfied smirk graced his lips and Draco turned to find Blaise sending daggers of his own toward him.

"Come off it, mate." He laughed. "Just because I can make her respond more positively than you doesn't mean you can be a sour sport about it."

"I'm not being a sour sport, as you say." He mocked with vehemence. "I'm just worried."

Draco looked at him and said," I am too, but we can't let this little episode deter us."

"Will you join me in this moment of peace?"

His companion nodded as he watched him undress. With hungry eyes, Draco charmed the sofa to hold all three of them. Calmly, he slipped behind Hermione and the two drifted into undisturbed slumber.

* * *

When Hermione woke from her sudden episode she had no idea where she was or what had happened. All she knew was that her head hurt and her skin pricked with coldness unknown to her. She was fully clothed in the attire she wore when all consciousness was lost to her, albeit she was covered in a mountain of throws that could suffocate even a troll with their thickness and mere size. How she ended up on the sofa, the hearth roaring with a light, open fire would remain a secret. For now, as she looked around and found a tray of precisely chosen delicacies. A chalice of cold water had been placed beside it, as well as several other beverages that were sure to make her evening quite interesting…

…Then, it hit her.

She had not shown up to class! It was nearing eight and-

As she struggled out the covers, a hand came to rest almost passively on her shoulder, urging her to leaned back against the pillows. A smile, a warm, caring smile met her eyes and she came face to face with two Slytherins as she was caught in their snake pit.

Black and grey eyes met startled brown.

"Wh-what?" she tried to shrug off the hand but couldn't. Whomever was touching her at this moment was stubbornly persistent. She could give them that.

"Rest," came Blaise's voice.

It had been his hand pressing against her shoulder.

She shook her head.

She could be stubborn and persistently so as well.

"No," she huffed, throwing his hand off of her as she inclined up and looked them both dead in the eye. "What happened?"

"We believe you know the answer to that, Princess."

" _Don't_ ," she bit out, eyes narrowed, jaw set," call me that."

The Slytherin Princes sighed; clearly, they were in for a long and terrible night.

"Listen, we know you're upset- "

She gave him a look that said _'you're damn right I am!'_

"But, we need you to calm down and listen."

Hermione snorted. As if they had the audacity to try to calm her down when she didn't know what the bloody hell was going on. But, she did for their sake. Why, she didn't know. Even in the slight state of delirium, she found herself face to face with a downpour of ease and tranquility.

It was in her eyes that they were able to find common ground; none of them wanted to argue, so why even try to push one?

After a while, she finally gave up.

"Alright," she deliberated. "Alright. Now that you have your moment, go ahead. Say what you're just dying to say." Large tears swelled up in her eyes and she stammered the end of her tirade with a sharp voice. "I-I k-know you wh-want to, anyway…s'not the f-first t-time."

"Not the first time for what?" Blaise immediately deciphered her words, which only made her more upset.

"Bl-bl-blacking out." She said the word as if it was a sin. "It wouldn't be the first time…" She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. If anything, the gesture consoled her. Anchored her to the ground when all else couldn't. That was when she felt the sofa shift and her head was immediately lifted up.

"It's alright," Blaise whispered heavenly. "You just need to trust us. Can you do that?"

Hermione looked between the Italian and Malfoy heir, not trusting herself to fully commit to even giving either of them more than a couple minutes of her time. That was all she could do, really. Give them her trust and pray that they didn't trampled all over it.

Nonetheless, she gave it to them, not knowing exactly what she was getting into the moment she agreed to let them in.

She told them how it all started. It was nothing bit a simple cough during the first couple of days back before it progressed to something much worse. As the weeks passed, the mysterious symptoms increased until she lost most, if not all of her appetite; she could no longer stay up, and when she was able to she would have difficulties falling asleep. Most nights she didn't get more than four hours of sleep because of the erratic system in which this illness thrived. It tormented her, drove her to extremities she never knew she could reach. And when it was all over, it left her weaker than she once was. All because she couldn't figure out what was harming her.

"It'll be alright, Granger," said Blaise as he tried to keep his true feelings out of play. Draco knew how hard it must be for him not to reach out and comfort her the way he was able to.

Hermione smiled warmly at him, though. Her hand reached out and grabbed onto his and she let out a blissful sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Your concern and help means to more than you think."

* * *

Blaise continued to stare at the witch long after she fallen back to sleep. It was nearing two in the morning, but he didn't want to move and retreat back to the dungeons. He had grown fond of watching her, of protecting her from the elements of this treacherous disease.

"She doesn't deserve this," he said at long last. "Whatever is causing this… whatever is hurting her, she doesn't deserve it."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"We must go to Snape," concluded Blaise as he brought his lips to the juncture of her neck, testing a small theory. Their witch let out a moan and a smile formed. He was delighted of the response he was receiving from her. "He will know what to do."

"We can't go to him just yet," Draco bit out through a clenched jaw. "He doesn't even know Hermione is the one."

"How the hell does he not know?"

"I…I suspect there is a barrier between his knowledge of our third part. He can't sense it unless she is aware of it herself."

"Are you telling me," Blaise looked away from the witch and glared at the wizard before him," that we're on our own?"

"Not entirely, no," he countered begrudgingly. "We just need to buy some time."

Blaise glowered at him as if the notion of buying time was as easily thrown around as purchasing groceries. Of course the Italian would be upset about his companion's nonchalant attitude toward their third part. Not that he had any reason to be as laid back as he appeared; she was withering right before their eyes for crying out loud! Had he no decency to show remorse or sympathy?

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled, excusing himself from Hermione's bedside to venture toward the kitchen. There, he opened the fridge and took out the long forgotten yogurt he had planned on eating at breakfast. He was hungry, that he finally realized as his eyes scanned the overly stocked fridge. Must have been the elves when they caught wind of one of the students falling ill. He wasn't much for compliments, but he was thankful for their alertness and attentiveness to one of their own. "I know what your thinking- "

"-what am I thinking, Malfoy?"

"That we should just go to Snape and have him awaken her prematurely."

"I was not thinking that," he hissed. "I was merely suggesting he push- "

"Listen," he slammed his half-eaten carton of yogurt on the counter and folded his arm over his chest. "I understand where you're coming from but we can't do anything that would inevitably compromise what little connection we've been able to create. She'll awaken on her own time. We just need to be patient."

"We've been patient for three fucking years Draco!" Blaise bellowed, not giving a damn if he woke their witch up or not. "How much longer must we wait? How much more pain and misery must come before we have the slightest ray of hope? How much longer?"

Draco stood immobilized by his companion's harsh words. He knew not the answer to his endearing questions. Hell, he wouldn't provide one even if he tried. All he had to act upon was the little hope that was granted to them by Father Time, the little bit of happiness they have been able to snatch just by watching the witch as she grew from the fiery little girl to this beautiful woman that laid spread out before them. As the questions bombarded him an endless rainstorm, his eyes drifted over to Hermione. She laid on the same sofa that she had awoken on. Where she exposed the secret she's been hiding for weeks, giving them the insight they were so desperate to obtain. And for what? To bring a rift between them still?

He didn't know what to do.

"You heard her." He finally said after some time. "It's been happening since the beginning of the term and she has no idea why it's occurring. Obviously, she doesn't know. She doesn't-"

It might as well have been a Bludger that hit him because of the sudden, almost explosive impact of the idea.

Hermione wasn't becoming ill due to an unseen virus. She was ill because she hasn't awoken yet. Three years was a lengthy amount of time, and to think that her soul still hasn't realized that there was two missing parts of it was absolutely bizarre. They've done everything that they possibly could do without ruining their chances of coming together as one. Their only option was to force the connection and hope for the best. And they were hoping for the best because having the blood of their loved one on their hands was not an option.

"We have to awaken her," Draco realized, praying that Blaise didn't break down.

It took several minutes for him to speak, and when he did his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"We will go to him," Blaise finally said, his voice singed with the pain they have both come to know all too well. "If he suggests we awaken her prematurely, then we'll do it. Otherwise, we wait."

"Fine," the heir said through a clenched jaw. "What do you think he'll say?"

Neither of them could image the wrath that would come from their old Potion's Master, but liked to imagine what sort of words that could spill from his mouth.

Blaise only shrugged, watching as Draco reached for the yogurt carton and finished off the remaining bits. Before he could dump the spoon into the sink, he grabbed his hand and swept his tongue across his lower lip. The blonde-haired wizard groaned as Blaise's grip on his hand tightened. While they were lost in their own little world, a moan issued from the common room and they both turned their attention to their witch who had her legs spread out and her hands held above her head. A lustful dream, one they were sure to invade upon.

"Any guesses as to what she is dreaming about?" Blaise murmured huskily into Draco's ear.

He shook his head. "No idea. Want to eavesdrop?"

The Italian chuckled darkly. "How deliciously evil of you, Malfoy." His tongue darted out and licked a long, thick line from his collarbone up to his ear. " _Naughty boy_."

Draco shivered, casting a sinister look at the witch as they invaded her of images of the three of them together. She won't be able to determine who her lovers were, but at least it gave her a taste of what was to come, what was in store when she was finally free from what was causing her harm. Only then they would be able to be together and become one as they should have done so many months ago.

One could only wish that their journey was marked without obstacles. But nothing is ever prepared accordingly or foreseen with closed eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am at the beginning of editing all chapters and I must say that I liked the break between the first chapter and the old chapter two much better. Let me know what y'all think! I felt the story was progressing a bit too fast. With this chapter, it seems as if things have the slowness to it that I was aiming for (Probably not slowness, but natural progression).

Anyway! You'll get an updated chapter everyday and expect chapter 16 to be published next Friday (7/8) :) Promise with all my heart!

Love y'all!

-Carolare Scarletus


	3. 3

_As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Chapter Three_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Monday, November Eleventh 1996**

Hermione sat perched above the Gryffindor's section of the Quidditch stadium. In her hands was her favorite edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. Down on the field, several figures emerged from the tapestry that sectioned off the changing room from the rest of the stadium. From where she sat, the wind whipping brutally against her clothed frame, she could make out Harry, Ginny, and Ron. Unfortunately, as far as she could tell, Ron's bravado was completely depleted. He was never one for confidence, and as she sat there and watched along with several others who had caught word of their practice, she wished that his inconstancy wasn't from nervousness and that there was something that she could do to ease it.

Over the last several weeks due to constant clashes, Ron and Hermione had slowly lost communication, only tolerating each other's company so as to keep up a good image with Harry, who was all too aware of their quarrels. Their disagreements and resentment came to a head when Ron began decidedly voicing his opinion about her newly developed friendship with the Head Boy. Granted, much of their adolescence had been filled with overwhelming distrust and an enduring fuel of hatred, but that wasn't the point. She was free to choose whom she befriended, who she spent her free time with, and most of all, confided in. Just because Ron was the least capable of understanding anything regarding the female heart didn't mean he had the right to tell her she couldn't get close to Malfoy. His pure audacity to even suggest that she stop seeing him caused her blood to boil at a staggering level.

Hermione sighed, not wanting to relive her last fight with Ron, or Ron's strange jealousy over the fact that she and Draco were somewhat close.

Although there was no telling where their relationship was heading, she still kept up a wall just in case his true colors ever reappeared. Draco was certainly intriguing, mentally stimulating, and challenging. He was not one for games, either. Over the course of the last several months they had been able to slowly let down their guards and show whole new sides of themselves, which had been exceedingly hard with the past being so fresh in each other's minds.

She was hardly one to judge, but she still kept her guard up. No matter how close they were getting, she had to be careful.

Snuggling more comfortably into her seat, casting a quick warmth charm, she picked up from where she had left off and continued to read until something, or rather someone, caught her disapproving eye.

Bobbing silently on his broomstick was McLaggen, a seventh year Gryffindor who had a penchant for dating a different girl every week. Ever since the first tryout, due to Harry's unwillingness to decide a temporary Chaser, and the dinner party, he'd been trying to grab her attention like some desperate, horny little boy. Not prone to submitting to the temptation of an excellent god of a man, Hermione had been avoiding him at all costs. They didn't share any classes, and she had to be very particular where she roamed, but they somehow managed to run into each other one way or another.

McLaggen grinned at her just as something came zooming fairly close to his face, and he swiftly knocked the oncoming object off its track. He swirled around in the air for several seconds before coming back to stare knowledgably at Hermione.

"Alright there, Granger?"

"Perfectly," she mumbled loud enough for him to hear. Acting as if she had to continue reading, she looked down at her book, moving her eyes to mimic reading until she heard McLaggen fly away. She let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding.

In the distance, Harry was yelling at one of his potential players, trying to get them into formation. Hermione knew nothing of Quidditch, having never found the Wizarding sport exciting. No matter how many times Harry or Ron explained the rules, guidelines, or tried to attach history, it never stuck. Even Draco tried to explain it to her, which ended up being a disaster in the end. She found herself more confused than she had been before that evening, when their conversation had pulled away from their usual topics to that of curiosity.

From her side, she could hear tormented giggles of several girls who had snuck in to see the tryouts. They all seem to be discussing something that they had no problem voicing aloud.

"I'm sure he's just nervous," Lavender Brown insisted, darting a quick glance down to the field. "My Won Won is always so confident and strong. It's the weather or maybe it's something he ate that's made him so disoriented."

 _Maybe it's your disgusting love that's causing him to play so poorly_ , Hermione thought, detestably.

Lavender Brown was a very obnoxious sixth year that had made her attraction to Ron all too clear, who still remained oblivious to advances. Despite having been with only one other man herself, Hermione could still see the attraction that always lit up in Lavender's eyes whenever she saw him. It was nauseating; even Harry agreed that Ron either had to do something about it, or he would have to deliver the bad news that he was just not interested. Though Lavender would most likely not get the hint since she'd been pushing her boundaries as of late. Ron just didn't know what to do about it.

It didn't bother Hermione that Ron was suddenly getting attention from girls. In fact, she was rather glad, despite past situations that had almost led to their own development. Thank goodness it had never happened. She could hardly stand the thought of being close to him like that now. Their friendship, though strained because of his own stupidity and unwillingness to let things go, was something they both valued dearly. They wouldn't ruin that for a chance to see what a relationship could eventually blossom into. Along with not standing the thought of being with him, she was not inclined to believe that it would ever work.

Ron was a great friend, but hardly boyfriend material.

"Oi, Ron!" Harry's voice called out from below.

Hermione lifted her gaze to find Ron and Cormac bobbing next to each other. From what it looked like, they were about to perform several drills involving coordination, something that Ron was not at all good at. Luckily, his sister was by his side, hissing commands as the Bludgers were charmed to propel from the player's grasp and launch themselves at Ron and Cormac.

She watched with mild interest as Cormac hit each onslaught of attacks, sending his Bludger away and repeating it until he managed to get one through one of the three hoops twenty feet behind them.

Ron sat on his broom, perplexed. Hermione could visibly see his confidence completely fade and be replaced with horror and shock. Though a great player, McLaggen was overly cocky and too full of himself. Even at the dinner party held by Slughorn, he had somehow been made the main focus of the entire evening. Between casting suggestive glances at her and devouring every bit of food that was placed before him, he had managed to inflate his own importance and superiority.

Cormac grinned triumphantly, leaned in and whispered something to Ron. He looked at him angrily, his eyes roaming over to Hermione.

She looked away and pretended that she wasn't paying attention.

Practice continued with these exchanges until Hermione gave in to the temptation to strengthen Ron's standing in the team. As inconspicuously as she could, she began to whisper confounding charm under her breath every time a Bludger was thrown at McLaggen, causing him to lose his bearings momentarily. She even got him to lose his focus enough to get hit in the shoulder. Stifling a laugh, she looked away, immediately regretting her decision to aid in Ron's acceptance to the team.

Lavender and her friend became more obnoxious after witnessing his performance. The girl had the nerve to say that Ron just needed a bit of encouragement to get his confidence back to an acceptable level. Hermione was not pleased, and if Lavender knew just what she did, she still would say that it had been her to revive Ron's lost ability to perform well.

With one last charm, Hermione opened her book back up and began to read, rubbing her right wrist as she did so.

* * *

 **Great Hall**

 **Tuesday, November Twelve 1996**

An air of reluctance followed Harry and Ron as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning. Mondays were always undoubtedly dreadful for all, especially those with classes first thing in the morning. With the weekend behind them and the impending match between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, it was even worse. It was the first game of the season, and both Houses were anxious about the outcome.

"Don't know why they're so happy," Ron mumbled, digging into his scrambled eggs. "They lost their last one with Ravenclaw and we're still in the lead."

"They're holding onto hope, Ron," Harry grumbled, paying no mind to the growing noise resonating from the obnoxiously loud Slytherin table. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"Not since Saturday night."

"Neither have I," Harry said quietly.

Even though she spent a majority of her free time with them, he felt as if he hadn't seen her in ages. Between her duties as Head Girl, her classes, and studying, they barely had the time to hang out as they normally would. Year six, as it had been with year five, was exceedingly difficult and demanded much of their allotted free time to be devoted solely to studying and preparing for their futures. Harry, having barely been accepted into N.E.W.T. level Potions, was spending a good amount of his time making sure he was on top of his game. Ron, on the other hand, was spending less of his time with books and more snogging girls.

"How's Lavender?" He tried to see if talking about another topic would ease his conscience.

"Alright," Ron said stiffly, not looking at him at all.

Harry sensed something was off and tried to decipher what could be causing him to be so tense and angry. He turned his attention and took in the view that made his best friend tense up with annoyance.

Walking friendly side-by-side were Malfoy and Hermione, engaged in a deep conversation. Malfoy's head was turned slightly toward hers and his neck was bent at an odd angle to allow him to hear her better. Hermione kept looking up and pointing at a piece of paper in her hands. Harry saw her huff in irritation as she walked briskly away, leaving an equally irritated and perplexed Malfoy to stand awkwardly near the entrance of the Great Hall.

Hermione trotted down the aisle and took a seat next to Harry, who resumed eating.

Ginny, who had been talking exclusively to a friend unknown to the three of them turned and smiled at Hermione.

"What was that all about?" she inquired with a small giggle. "You and Malfoy seemed to be awfully friendly, Hermione."

"Too friendly if you ask me," Ron muttered.

She turned her head towards him. "What do you mean by that? Am I not allowed to befriend students from other houses?"

"Sure you are," he said defiantly. "Just not him. He's vile, Hermione. Why on earth would you even want to get close to that git?"

"For your information, Ronald, I'm allowed to talk to or get close to anyone I please. I don't need you telling me whom I can be with, or whom I can't be with," she hissed. "I could very well say the same thing about Lavender Brown."

Ron was enraged. "What about my girlfriend?"

"So, you admit it!"

"Admit what?"

"That Brown's your girlfriend!"

"And if she is?" Ron threatened with a hiss. "Said so yourself, why should it matter?"

"She's no good for you!" Hermione stood and secured the strap of her satchel on her right shoulder. "Harry and I never mentioned it because she is your first real girlfriend, but we both agree that she is just manipulating you."

Ron cringed at the revelation and secret that his two best friends had been hiding. He nodded, convinced of something that would take him a while to express.

As they bickered, a very anxious looking Seamus Finnigan came sprinting towards them, stopping just a few feet in front of Harry.

"Caught you," his Irish accent thick as he tried to catch his breath. "Wanted to know if it's too late to try out, seeing as Bell is still in St. Mungo's. Is the position still open? I mean, if Dean is just in for one game."

"Er- no, actually. Dean got the position. Sorry, mate."

He nodded disjointedly. "Yeah, alright. Had to ask. See you at the game."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Little late for tryouts, is it not?"

"I-uh, promised he could at least have a go during the first tryout."

"Believe it or not but he turned out to be worse than me," mumbled Ron, disheartened. "Dean got the position of Chaser. Turned out to be a fairly decent player." His words were drowned by the cheers exploding from both sides of the large dining hall.

They ate breakfast in silence until the warning bell chimed in the distance. Ginny bid them farewell, joining Dean just outside the entrance.

The trio left the Great Hall, deep in conversation about what they had just seen.

* * *

A wave of uneasiness spread over them as they made their way through the crowded corridors and to their first class. It was morning rush hour and everyone with a packed early schedule was scrambling to get to the first class on time. Others, like Harry and Ron who followed silently behind their best friend, were less than enthusiastic about having to attend Transfiguration so early in the morning. The lessons were becoming more rigorous and advanced, stretching all their minds and magic to the fullest extent. During their last class, only Hermione managed to conjure more than just a few strands of feathers. She astounded Professor McGonagall by conjuring a whole flock of tiny, colorful birds.

Though one of the most demanding classes, Transfiguration was not the most despised, which still remained Divination, a class by a woman who had earned the nickname 'Mad Trelawney' on account of the fact that she preached that divination was the true source of one's future. Hermione, although having advocated the worthlessness of the course, took it upon herself to continue taking it just to prove that she did indeed have the _Inner Eye_ as Professor Trelawney had called it in the past. Whether it was to prove a point, or drive the woman further into insanity, she forced her two best friends to take the class with her to give her some support if Trelawney said something outrageous, even for her.

"If it wasn't for the ridiculousness of the entire course I wouldn't even bother," said Hermione with a huff as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. Fall had drawn to a close and winter was in full swing. The landscape surrounding Hogwarts had been blessed with a thin sheet of white.

Harry approached her with careful consideration. "She's just doing what she knows best. Give her some slack."

"There is nothing to be gained by predicting the future or reading tea leaves!" Hermione hissed desperately as the made their way safely down the corridor and approached Professor McGonagall's classroom.

"Hermione, please, it's entirely too early to be going on about Trelawney," groaned Ron, rubbing his temples to alleviate the building pressure on the sides of his head. The previous night Hermione had been informed of their defeat during a practice match with Ravenclaw, a blow that had not been taken with kindness but had been filled with their own celebrations. Evidently, despite losing to Ravenclaw, they were still fairly driven and had maintained the hope that had managed to stay intact. Hermione was not pleased to discover that someone, with total secrecy, had snuck into the kitchens and stolen Firewhiskey from one of the pantries and a load of pastries and other goodies. She pledged that she would find the culprit.

"Maybe I should ask Professor Snape to brew you a hangover potion," Hermione suggested softly, growing more concerned about her friend as they made their way through the throngs of students at the foot of the Northern Tower's staircase. Voiced echoed hauntingly as the sun broke through the haze of the morning.

"Oh, right," Ron scoffed, amused. "Nothing sounds better than getting poisoned by the Dungeon Bat. Even that sounds loads better than cozying up to that conniving snake."

"Ronald!" she exclaimed, embarrassed. "Take that back! Take that back right now!"

"Nah," he said lowly, "I'd rather not, since it's the truth. You and _Malfoy_ have been spending quite a lot of time together. Even Harry thinks so."

Hermione turned to Harry and stared accusingly at him as well. "You do?"

"It may not be the most obvious thing," Ron said sarcastically.

He nodded slowly. "Only because we've noticed that you've been sick lately and you've been spending a lot of time with him. We know Snape's been administering potions to you."

She could not refute that since one of the requirements for the potion was to take it with every meal. She couldn't very well skip taking it or not eat, because it only worked properly with the consumption of a healthy meal and a good intake of liquids. It was almost as if the requirements were set to force her to eat more than she had been the last several weeks. Quite frankly, the potions were making her sicker than she had been prior to starting the regimen. Hermione just didn't want to worry them more than they already were.

"No, I- it's just simply a-a precautionary-," she stumbled to find the correct words and sighed. "He just did what he was asked of him, that's all."

Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry fidgeted nervously. He had been the one to tell her that she had fainted and that he had elicited the help of Madam Pomfrey. She had woken up the following morning feeling quite relieved, having no memory of the previous night until Harry recapped the events that led up to her blackout for her. That morning in Potions, Professor Snape delivered the first bottle to their class. She was beyond mortified that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to give her the potions. She was still waiting for her second batch, since the bottles were incredibly small. Unfortunately, she ran out of the first bottle at breakfast.

"Madam Pomfrey asked him to brew it after… after I fainted." Hermione glanced at Harry, who encouraged her with a small smile. She returned it. "And I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from blowing things out of proportion, Ronald. It was just an accident and it won't happen again."

"I'm not blowing anything out of proportion," he said darkly, casting a shadowy glare down at her as he ascended past her on the stairs by several steps. "If being concerned about one of my best friends and her health is a crime, then fine."

"What on earth-"

"I'm going to class," Ron declared, not giving her a chance to reply.

Harry and Hermione watched Ron as he climbed the spiraling staircase and vanished completely from view, but not without hearing a very indecent exchange between him and two other individuals.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Whoa." They could hear him snigger from several flights of stairs above them. Harry and Hermione soon climbed up and were met with a startling image.

Malfoy and Zabini greeted them with menacing expressions. Snarling, Malfoy turned his attention back to Ron, who stood practically petrified by the mere sight of their adversaries.

Hermione gave Ron a gentle nudge in the ribs, as if awakening him from some deep, sedated slumber.

"What do you want?" he demanded again.

Malfoy smirked, eyeing him with unconcealed amusement. "Careful there, Weasley, or you'll burst a blood vessel."

Ron's anger rose with each word.

Malfoy glanced beside him and eyed Hermione carefully, who shrank back considerably under his heavy glare. She was not in the mood for this type of excitement, or lack thereof, so early in the morning.

Before Ron could ask for a third time, Malfoy said, "I'm here to speak to Granger."

"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of us," Ron told him, his bravado growing with each passing moment.

He smirked widely. "I'm afraid I can't. Head Boy and Girl business, Weasley. And, last time I checked, you're neither. So, go on. You too, Potter. I need to speak to Granger alone."

Harry eyed Zabini questioningly. "If he's allowed to stay, then why can't we?"

"Your precious Gryffindor Princess will be fine without her knights for five minutes," growled Malfoy. "Now leave! Class is about to start and I suspect Trelawney would not be pleased to know that her students were caught skipping. How unfortunate would that be?"

Harry glared at Malfoy. Motioning to Ron that it was fine to leave her alone, he indicated to Hermione silently that they'd be just a couple of floors above her if anything were to go wrong. He then bypassed Malfoy and Zabini, but not without stopping to exchange a few words with the man that he had cornered only two nights ago in the Head's Common Room.

"Don't you dare touch her, do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Malfoy whispered darkly. "Now leave. You're a complete eye sore."

Ron struggled to keep himself in check as the two of them ascended the stairs once again, leaving Hermione to defend herself. The bell in the distance chimed expectantly, causing Hermione to jump and move anxiously toward the stairs.

Malfoy stopped her. "Now, now Granger. As much as we would like you to go chase after your gallant knights, I have something to deliver to you."

"And what would that be?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Malfoy.

He smirked handsomely, momentarily stunning her. "Blaise, do you mind handing me Snape's package?"

Hermione watched with trepidation as Zabini dug through his robes and pulled out two small bottles identical to the empty one she had in her satchel. She tensed noticeably under his intense gaze. Zabini's eyes bored into her and she could feel a blush rise to her cheeks. Hermione looked away from him, catching Malfoy's curious stare.

"Why he asked me to deliver it when you have class with him first thing tomorrow morning, I'll never know. But, here." He handed her the bottles, waiting silently for her to grab them and receive payment for going out of his way to give it to her.

"Th-thank you," she struggled to say as she reached out to take them from his distasteful hands. As she reached out, their fingers brushed gently against each other's and for a moment they were both locked in time, a splendid suspense that she could not understand.

His eyes captured hers, darkening with each prolonged caress of their skin. A flame previously unknown to her ignited within her, spreading from the tips of her fingers to her core and branching out to every inch of her body. Hermione felt strangely calm but oh so unsatisfied and empty. There was something missing. Even as he pulled away, his fingers barely touching hers, Hermione couldn't help but feel a tiny bit mournful from the loss of his touch.

Then it hit her.

She should not be feeling this way toward her worst enemy. After two years of torment and a sudden epiphany after their third, Hermione was not convinced that either of the Slytherin's transformations was due to anything other than wanting a quick laugh. She knew what lay underneath their deceptive exteriors. No matter how friendly she had gotten with Malfoy, she still had a wall put up just in case he did something completely horrendous or something that would make her lose what trust she was able to give him. However, she could not say the same for Zabini, who still remained utterly mysterious, even now as he stood there just as petrified as them.

Zabini had never been one to show his true emotions. Whatever effectively placed barrier he had set up was the strongest, most unbreakable one that Hermione had ever come across. He was mysterious, as mystifying and strangely exotic as his heritage. Deep down, she wanted to get to know him, wanted to see what lay beneath his hard exterior. It was gratifying to think that maybe he shared some sort of connection with her, even though they had hardly spoken a decent word to one another in last five years. All their exchanges had been less than pleasant, which made it that much harder to speak to him now, knowing that he could easily turn into the drastically darker man she rarely saw.

Something flashed indiscreetly across his dark eyes, causing Hermione to gasp. Although she wasn't physically touching him, she could feel something distinctly pleasant about it. The unidentified sensation seeped into her body and spread through her like wildfire made of pure, unadulterated flames. Licking at her skin, it exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, drowning her in something so dangerously pleasurable that if it weren't for the wall supporting her weight, she would have surely lost her balance and fallen to the ground.

Backing away, she put enough distance between them that she felt comfortable before tucking the bottles inside her satchel. Hermione stood there awkwardly until one of them broke the silence.

" _How are you feeling?_ " a low, dangerous voice asked.

Hermione looked up to find them staring at her with curiosity. Something else was hidden in their otherwise cold, devoid eyes, something that made her want to walk over to them. She knew the mere proximity would be enough to calm the growing flare of magic growing inside her. She held her ground and looked at Zabini.

"What did you ask?"

"He asked how you are feeling," drawled Malfoy, quite calmly. "Much like your guard dogs, we've noticed your strange behavior, Granger. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. We _do_ have rounds to night, if you didn't remember."

"How I am- quite fine, if you must know." She paused, putting even more distance between them. "And, yes. I'm very much aware that we have rounds. We are Head Boy and Girl. We're in charge of the prefects."

"Yes, we both have quite the reputation." Malfoy sniggered, amused.

She narrowed her eyes, but the annoyance wasn't quite there. She had gotten used to his jokes faster than comfort allowed. Sometimes she thought she was getting a little too close to him.

Carefully, she climbed one step and looked down at them, or as best she could since the step didn't allow her to be at eye level with the Slytherin Princes. "See you later, then."

"Likewise."

Hermione turned and a thought suddenly occurred to her. Turning back around, she watched as they retreated. She almost didn't speak, until the urge to confront Zabini took over.

"Thank you."

They halted and looked over their shoulders.

"For what?" Malfoy ventured, unsure as to whom she was speaking.

"Not you," Hermione told him. "I… I wouldn't have made it back to the common room if it hadn't been for you, Zabini. I wanted to thank you properly last week, but… anyway-." Fidgeting with the sleeves of her robe, she fought with herself for several long seconds.

Zabini stood completely transfixed, mystified as Hermione stepped down, moved toward him and then pressed a soft kiss upon his cheek. Her lips lingered as a buzz of sensual magic swept around them. As she stepped away, he could see just how terribly hard it was for her to pull away when they both knew very well that the other had felt it.

"Thank you," she whispered, escaping his grasp once again.

* * *

Blaise touched the very area that her lips had been with tentative fingers. Tiny sensations of pure bliss exploded where her sweet, delicious lips had touched. A grin spread across his face as he ignored his companion's curious stare.

"Oh, come off it. She only thanked you," Draco hissed, a victorious smirk spreading across his own face. "I actually kissed her."

"Unconscious, didn't count," the Italian said, unamused. He continued to touch the spot where her lips had been. "But, did you… feel what I felt?"

"How could I not?" said Draco in a low, dangerous voice. "Be careful from now on."

"Yes," Blaise agreed softly, touching the dark symbol upon his wrist. "Did you see it?"

"See what?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Malfoy. If you felt it, surely you saw it. The mark on her wrist is fading. She's going to have another episode."

Draco glowered at him and Blaise refused to meet his gaze. "I thought we agreed we would not discuss this." He sighed, running his fingers in frustration through his platinum hair. "We can't… not now, Blaise. We need more time."

"We've had three fucking _years_ , Draco. Or, perhaps, somehow the last three years have eluded you? I'm sick of waiting. You know what Trelawney said in class third year."

"Of course I _remember_ ," he hissed, causing Blaise to visibly jump in fear. A day did not go by when he didn't think about their lunatic professor's alarming prophecy. "It seems that _you_ have forgotten that she warned us not to interfere with the workings of Fate."

"The Fates are taking their precious time, time that we _do not have_!" Blaise hissed angrily. "Have you seen Granger as of late? Her condition is worsening. If we do not take the initiative then-"

"We will wait," Draco said. "We agreed that we would wait until we were certain."

"We _are_ certain," he growled exasperatedly before sighing. He walked over to the stairs and sat down. Draco followed, taking the unoccupied space beside him. "I'm sick of waiting, Draco."

"As am I," Draco confessed painfully. "But we have to be cautious. That mark means nothing. We aren't even sure that-"

"It's the same bloody mark that Trelawney spoke of during our third year, Draco. And, if you're not the least bit concerned that she's experiencing these strange symptoms, at least have the decency to tell me."

"I _do_ care," he hissed angrily.

"Then act like it!" Blaise's voice rose with each words, echoing down the corridor. "I can't be the only one stressing over this entire situation."

"But we can't work with only our assumptions or what the old hag predicted."

"It's the best thing we have," Blaise said pleadingly.

Blaise's neutral, unreadable façade crumbled immediately under the severity of the situation and the compounded words.

Draco slithered his muscled arms around the waist of his lover, breathing in his Italian cologne. His breath fanned down across Blaise's neck and a series of blissful tremors ran through him.

"We'll find a way," he reassured him. "It's growing stronger. Eventfully, she'll have no other choice than to come to us. Tonight may be that chance for unity."

They stood in silence, unaware of the lingering, shadowy figure standing in the distance.

* * *

"Dunno why he's so angry," Ron said in a low whisper. "He went to the tryouts."

"He's just upset I picked Dean," Harry countered, unimpressed by his classmate's noticeable anger.

The two of them sat for quite some time until the door to their classroom swung open and Hermione stepped in, apologizing profusely to McGonagall.

Ron perked up at the sight of Hermione, as did Harry.

She slid in the seat beside Harry and tore through her satchel and took out her textbook, skimming the pages until she found the correct page. Sighing, Hermione turned to find them staring at her.

"What?"

"Nice of you to join us," Ron mumbled, looking away.

"Well, not all of us were blessed with a carefree school year, Ronald. Some of us have very important-"

"What did Malfoy want?"

"He wished to speak to me about Head duties." Hermione flicked the tip of her quill nervously, knowing that Harry would eventually detect her odd behavior and that Ron would be too stupid to do anything about it. "Not that you ever cared."

"You're right," Ron said pointedly. "I don't care. Like I didn't care that you were ogling McLaggen during the tryouts, or that you decided to take him instead of me to Slughorn's Yule Party."

Now it was her turn to be angry. "I did nothing of the sort! Why on earth would I want to take that disgusting git?"

"Oh, come off it Hermione!" Ron snarled. "I know you fancy him."

"I do not!"

"Then why did McLaggen spread a rumor that you're together? Was that a lie?"

"What do you think?" she hissed. "Of course it is! I would never go out with a guy like him! He's not even my type."

"What is your type?" he inquired then. "Certainly not McLaggen, or Malfoy."

"Ronald-"

"McLaggen's probably spreading those rumors because something's happened between the two of you. Probably the same reason you're cozying up to Malfoy." Ron sneered disapprovingly.

Hermione had never felt such gross hatred for anyone, especially for someone she had thought was her friend. Now that she knew how he really felt about her friendship with Draco, she had no problem leaving them to sit alone. From several seats away, the Patil twins heard everything.

"For your information, Malfoy is a remarkable person and he's nothing like the horrid things you described him as."

She stood, sending glares to both of them before hurrying away to join the twins, who sent eerily similar sneers to the boys and consoled her when Harry failed to choose a side.

Class commenced, leaving Harry to wonder if he had made the right decision to keep his mouth shut. He was only being considerate, despite knowing Malfoy's secret. Ron had no right to say what he did, or even suggest that Hermione was…

He couldn't even think the words.

Looking over to Hermione, Harry sent a truly apologetic smile that she did not see.

* * *

By the end of class, Harry felt terrible, worse than he'd ever felt in his entire life. His best friends were fighting, driving him to isolation and forcing him to choose a side once again. They did not speak to each other as the classroom filed out in a haphazard line. Students filled the corridors and he soon lost track of his best friends.

With a resigned sigh, Harry walked to Herbology alone.

The rest of the day passed in blurred images, and before he knew it, Harry was standing behind the tapestry separating the changing room and the rest to the stadium. Games between Gryffindor and Slytherin were always well received and anticipated, since neither house played fairly. Slytherins were brutal, but Gryffindors were tactical, but that did not help them at all. The opposing house put up quite a fight but didn't end up with a victory. Harry couldn't have been any prouder to have won the first game of the season against Slytherin; even they were impressed by his strategy.

By the time he got back to the Gryffindor Common Room, the victory party was in full swing. Someone had raided the kitchens again, procuring enough alcohol and snacks to last them well into next week. As he pressed through the lively crowd, Harry was congratulated on a well-earned victory. After weeks of molding his team into shape, he had finally gotten rid of his insecurities as Captain, as well as earned the trust of his house and teammates. He couldn't feel any better. That was, until he noticed something oddly unfulfilling. Making a quick escape, he set off to find Hermione, and had no trouble at all since she had left a trail as she roamed the vacant corridors of Hogwarts.

He had been almost certain that if Ron had won the game for them that it would somehow patch up his broken relationship with Hermione. That plan had been a complete letdown, seeing as Ron had insinuated something awful. Ron would have to be the one to fix it, not him. Hopefully, he'd be able to.

Harry found her sitting alone in an abandoned classroom, a small halo of tiny birds chirping as they circled her head. She had been crying, that he could tell. But how long she had been there alone, left to her own thoughts, he wasn't so sure.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, panicked at being discovered. "Harry! Shouldn't you be in the common room?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Fancied a stroll." Harry turned to close the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione wiped her eyes with the backs of her sleeves, erasing the fact that she had been crying.

With a shaky voice, she said, "Practicing, see?"

Harry couldn't help but to admire her spellwork, even at a time like this.

"Lovely." He really had no idea what to say.

Was it customary to leave a crying girl alone to sort out her emotions, or would a more intimate approach be appropriate? Harry had no idea, since he had never really had to comfort a girl while she was crying. Instead, he took a different approach.

"Fancy a walk? We could go back to the Head's room and have our own little party."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I suspect Draco will be there. I didn't want to go back too early, seeing that our house won."

"He'd be resentful towards you?"

"Not me." She let out a nervous laugh. "Just our house."

Harry stared at her, walking towards her unconsciously. He didn't realize he had been moving until he almost bumped into the teacher's desk where she sat.

Hermione looked up and gave him a weak smile. "Ron seemed like he was enjoying himself."

"He was? I hardly noticed."

"Oh, don't act gullible Harry. I know you-"

The door to the classroom swung open. Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock as Ron came through the door, pulling Lavender's hand. He directed her to an empty desk, pulling her hard against his chest and delving into the side of her neck. She let out a pleased moan, turning her head before letting out a giggle.

"Occupied." She brought her lips to Ron's cheek and whispered something. "Meet me there as soon as you're done."

Ron stood silently as he watched Lavender escape without him.

He turned and was met with a startling sight.

Hermione slid off the desk, her creations continuing to twitter around her head. Tears pricked her eyes as she swept past Harry and stopped in front of Ron, a second away from punching him.

"Don't want to keep her waiting, hmm?" her voice was coarse and broken, as if the words themselves were causing her pain and not what she had just witnessed.

She walked very stiffly toward the door, exiting the classroom in silence and a feathery display of color.

Ron let out a sigh just as a hurt shriek sounded from the doorway, " _Oppungno_!"

A flash of color burst into the room; Hermione had sent her birds to attack Ron, and attack they did. The seemingly tranquil creations pecked, scraped, bit, and scratched him until Ron was a sore, bloody mess. He fled, the birds trailing behind him.

Harry could have sworn he heard sobs under the sound of Ron's terrified screams.


	4. 4

_Chapter Four_

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Head's Room**

 **Tuesday, November Twelve 1996**

She escaped just as the clock struck midnight. Past the echoing cheers, the disgruntled groans of the portraits and the unnoticed glances of the ghostly residents, Hermione ran as fast as she could down the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, away from the scene she had just seen, the friend she thought she had, and the boy she'd thought she could somehow confide in.

Oh, how impossibly wrong she had been to even think such a thought.

There was no way she could ever get close to someone who (despite never telling him) would throw away her feelings as if they were rubbage. Hermione had been foolish to think that he could ever return the unrequited feelings that she had for him. It was a fruitless thing, but it was something she had held onto until that moment. Now, it seemed, she would never be able to find love, or someone to accept her.

Hermione's feet pounded painfully against the stone floor as she made up her mind to find seclusion in another classroom, far from the prying eyes of anyone who happened to be roaming the halls so late at night. Whether it was the fact that she was Head Girl, or that she just didn't give a damn that she was out of her dorm after curfew, Hermione chose the first door that came into view, pulled out her wand, hissed the incantation that would allow her access, opened the door, and then shut herself in.

The room itself was a perfect representation of how horrible she felt: dreadfully cold, dank, and dark; there was no light, just like the extinguished flame in her heart; no vigor to give her meaning. What was she without that little hope in her mind? Tossing the now meaningless notion far from her mind, Hermione stepped more firmly and familiarized herself with the room. She didn't know what compelled her but she walked straight to the teacher's desk and sat down on it as if nothing had happened and that she was in the other classroom. Pulling her legs to her chest, she fought back the urge to cry.

Shouldn't she be stronger than this? To be able not to let some foolish little boy get the better of her? Surely her mother had taught her better than to allow other people's opinions to get to her. No matter how stupid Ron was, he would always be her friend. In a relationship or not, she should be supportive.

Hermione sighed. She didn't know what was coming over her, but the feelings she'd once had for him were evaporating as fast as the most potent potion she'd ever brewed. It was completely pointless to dwell on him when he obviously didn't deserve a moment of her time. Even during their fourth year, he'd had the chance to ask her to the ball and waited until the last possible moment to ask her. She was not a last resort, not now or ever again!

Furious with unresolved rage, Hermione searched frantically for something to throw. Finding an old textbook with decaying, brittle pages she went to throw it, but her mind stopped her before she made the biggest mistake of her life, or rather, a voice in her mind did.

 _He is certainly not worth it._

 _No he isn't,_ she replied curiously. Hermione had had conversations with herself, but never like this. This voice was deep, oddly reassuring, intoxicating. With each soothing word, her wrist burned with an eagerness she never knew it could elicit. This voice could easily manipulate her and her senses. Suddenly, she was overcome with such calmness that she almost dropped her arms from her knees. Hermione had almost forgotten why she was in the classroom when the voice spoke to her again.

 _That's it, calm down Cara. You are deserve so much more than him. If you'd allow me, I'd like to show you._

 _Yes, please. Show me._

 _Breathe and relax._

And so she did.

 **Head's Room**

He had been resting on the couch in the Head's room when he received the stress call. Coming to him like a dream, Draco's rest was punctured by tears and anger, the likes of which he'd never felt. Rising from the couch, he searched frantically for a reasonable explanation as to why he felt so sorrowful and betrayed for a minute before it hit him.

Hermione was in danger. No – she was hurt and somewhere in the school bawling her eyes out. He couldn't pinpoint why, having little to no experience with crying girls. Even Pansy's fits of emotions hadn't helped him come anywhere close to understanding the workings of a girl's heart. The only thing he had to act upon was the small symbol on his left wrist that burned with the intensity of a thousand winters.

A long time ago Draco had deconstructed the conundrum that was their symbol. Having waited patiently, far too quietly, for something to happen with her, he was able to deduce a great number of things. When it burned like dry ice, she was upset and sad; when it scorched his skin and left a ring of redness around the symbol, she was inconsolable with rage; when it was inflamed by a passionate purple hue – Gods, he wanted to seek the girl out and snog her senseless. He couldn't even think when the symbol on his wrist was completely encapsulated in a deep, sinful shade of red. That made him want to do more than just snog her silly.

The damn girl was far from experienced, but could she get him hot and aroused with just the touch of her fingers on her skin. A connection between the two of them had not been fully made yet, but he could feel every sensual scrape of her fingers, bite of her lower lip, sharp intake of her breath- by the Gods she knew how to tease and taunt him, even without knowing what the hell she was doing. She was a master of sweet seduction. The little seductress seemed diabolical with her actions; what made it worse was the fact that Blaise struggled more with what he felt than Draco did. Some days it was hard to even speak to him because of it. Hermione was unknowingly drawing them to her. She knew how to touch herself, but what made the situation even better was that they knew that she hadn't quite perfected the ability to give herself pleasure. Despite getting hot and bothered by her own ministrations, she never truly achieved an orgasm, something that they were all too willing to rectify. Once they were connected, they would be able to show her what true pleasure was.

Wordlessly, he rose from the couch and went in search of their witch. Blaise would surely follow suit after gathering a good resolve. Draco had an inkling as to where she might be; she wasn't far from the Gryffindork tower. Her knights in rusty armor were sure to find her eventually – an annoying thing if you asked him – but not before he did. He was determined to find her and console her the best he could without being too forward. He wanted to take it slow with her, engage her, see if the interest in her heart matched harmoniously with that of their symbols. This couldn't be just a physical attraction between them; there had to be more to it than that.

Murmuring a protective spell under his breath, he set out to find their missing witch before her obnoxious Gryffindorks had the chance to realize she was missing. Between their vivacious celebrations and the inebriated states they would soon regret, he didn't think any of them would notice if one of their own wasn't within their ranks. Hermione wasn't known to enjoy Quidditch; it was honestly one of the very few things that she just couldn't understand. Maybe it was lack of interest, he mused with a smirk. Their witch had a habit of going above and beyond to understand something as simple as a beetle, so it couldn't be an inability to learn. She was extraordinary no matter what she put her mind to.

Draco was no stranger to wandering the halls late at night. Sore and tired from the loss of their first game against Gryffindor, he pushed past the discomfort and sent out his magic to aid in finding Hermione. Countless nights he'd roamed these halls. Sometimes he would step outside and let the cold air clear his mind; it was a desperate tactic, but sometimes it worked. Other times, well, cold showers were another considered option. Though he usually very much liked the quiet air when no one else was roaming the halls, he couldn't appreciate it that night since his nerves were running a thousand miles per hour. He was frantic with need. He needed to find Hermione as soon as possible and bring her back to their rooms. There, hopefully, he would be able to console her and get her to explain why she was so distraught.

 _Malfoy_ ,a voice called him.

Draco stopped unexpectedly, hoping to find the owner of the voice within his grasp. _Zabini, where is she?_

 _Fifth floor._ Blaise sent out. _She is very upset._

"I know," he said aloud, momentarily choking on the words. "Tell me where the fuck she is. I- I can't stand this anymore. This burning-" He rubbed his wrist to alleviate the burning sensation that was beginning to irritate him. "Show me where she ran off to. I'll go talk to her and if she will allow me, I'll let you talk to her as well."

 _If that is what you wish to do, then I will humbly oblige._

"Yes," he hissed with a growl. "It's what I want. What we _both_ want."

Zabini went silent as he sent out images of what he saw to his companion. With a deep growl, Draco headed toward their witch with the intention of making her speak and confessing who had made her so unbearably upset.

The voice remained silent, but the warmth that it sent out wrapped around her like a blanket. Instantly, she felt entirely better, calmer. Hermione was raised to a higher degree of composure and self-reliance; never had she felt so unbelievably at ease or free of worry.

It was things like this that gave her hope. Maybe Ron was too stupid to notice her, but that didn't mean other boys hadn't or wouldn't. She knew she was a know-it-all, a stickler for the rules, maybe even a nag, but she deserved to be loved and adored.

 _You are, Cara._

A choked sob escaped her. Hermione brought her hands to her face to conceal her shame. She wasn't prone to crying, and when she did she made absolutely sure no one was around to see her. Seeing Ron and Lavender together had triggered something awful in her, something she wished wasn't there. She felt so bad, so unwanted, and so ashamed. Even if Ron wasn't interested in her, she could find someone, right? Not just some fling, but a true soulmate she could count on, and who could give her more than she ever dreamed of. It was one thing to want someone, it was another to want them because of their body. She wanted to be cherished fully, not used like Lavender was using Ron. Was it so much to ask for?

No, it wasn't.

She just wished someone saw her in that way.

Shaking her head, Hermione let out another small sob and wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks. She could taste the nasty saltiness of her sadness on her lips, which only caused more tears to escape the cage she kept them in. Something as thick as rope wrapped around her heart and tightened with each strained breath.

In an instant, the warmth evaporated, leaving a biting coldness in its wake. Shivering, she reached for her wand and cast a quick warmth charm and then placed it softly on the dusty desk. With a sigh, she looked around the room, silently resolved to the fact that no one, not even Harry, despite her outburst, was coming to her aid. The lonely Gryffindor Princess was going to remain alone for the rest of the night, until her tears dried up and her voice was hoarse.

Not noticing the shift in the room, Hermione continued to cry into her hands, completely unaware of the growing presence.

The floor creaking caught her attention.

"G-go a-away, Harry," she sobbed. "I d-don't want t-to talk."

The person she thought was her friend did not answer. Through the thickness of her wet lashes, Hermione looked up and found herself facing a towering dark figure.

Standing at the opposite end of the room was Draco. He stared at her expressionlessly, regarding her with unnerving silence that almost brought her to her knees with anxiousness.

Her first thought was the question of how he'd found her. Having given him no word of where she was heading after going back to the dorms to change, Hermione had left him to think over the loss of the match in solitude. She knew better than to engage him when he was in a foul mood, but seeing him now so deeply distraught and out of breath caused something else to rise.

Had he been worried?

Had her absence bothered him?

Hermione dropped her hands from her face in disbelief. "What are you doing here? How-" She didn't have time to finish the question as Draco crossed the short expanse of the room and she stumbled to her feet.

"Easy, there."

Hermione stiffened; surprised she had been caught by Draco.

He brought his hand to the small of her back and soothed her by rubbing his hand in small circles there. Almost instantly she calmed down. After a few moments, Hermione was well enough to pull away from him. What he saw shocked him.

Hermione's eyes were puffy with recent tears. Her cheeks were stained a hideous shade of pink, a sharp contrast to the lovely blush he seemed to elicit every time they talked. The rosy hue of her cheeks now was not the result of pleasant banter, laughter, or compliments. No, it was due to the fact that someone had hurt her and she had released that energy by doing something he knew she would regret.

Whoever had caused her pain wouldn't just have to deal with her, they'd have to deal with him as well.

"Who did this to you?" he questioned.

She shook her head, buried her head into the crook of his neck and refused to talk.

"Granger," he warned, his voice deepening. "I won't ask you again. Who did this to you?"

Something along the lines of 'Wonald' escaped her lips.

Draco, refusing to let her get away with answering his question with something muffled, pulled her from the comfort of his chest and looked down at her with piercing eyes.

"Who?"

A moment's hesitation. "Ronald, but he didn't do anything!"

Draco tried his best to conceal his rage.

How dare the little Weasel make her cry! What had he done to cause her to run away from the scene in a teary, blurred fit of rage and anger?

Weasel better count his prayers. Once he was done talking to Hermione, Draco was going to track down Ron and murder him for causing her pain.

Hermione was trying to get him to speak to her.

Draco immediately turned his attention back to her and brought his hands to her cheeks. She stiffened, her eyes widening.

"What did he do?"

"I- he- Lavender…"

Through her attempts to tell him what happened, Draco was able to piece together the probable string of events that had led her to send a flock of birds to attack Ron. From what she said, Ron was most likely either tending to his injuries or in the arms of a girl that was rumored to have drugged more boyfriends than Pansy had ever lain with. With a humorless laugh, Draco cupped her cheek and gently rubbed the soft skin.

"I'm glad you were able to stand up to yourself."

"I didn't do anything worthwhile," she sniffed, wiping her eyes, but she was stopped by Draco's trailing finger.

"Granger, you did more than you think. Gryffindors are known for their courage, aren't they?

He stared searchingly into her eyes, wiping away the lingering tears. A few collected at her tear ducts only to be erased by Draco's tender strokes. Staring adoringly into her eyes, he leaned forward and pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. She gripped the front of his sweater for support.

"Why did you do that?" her voice trembled as she exclaimed the words. She had the nerve to rub the spot where his lips had been as if to see if what he did was real.

"Because you deserve total love and adoration."

Hermione's eyes flashed with astonishment.

Even if she had wanted to back away from him, Draco wouldn't let her. Wrapping his arms around her small waist, he brought her into a tight hug.

After a minute, Draco placed his hands firmly on her waist. "We should head back," he told her, dropping his hands. "It's getting late and I ran into Ms. Norris on my way here. Damn cat has it out for me."

She took his offered hand and giggled. "She isn't that bad."

"She makes yours look like a saint." He led her towards the door. "Trust me, that cat has it out for me. One time roaming the halls after curfew and you're on her hit list forever. But although cats are clever, I'm quicker. Definitely more intelligent than that ancient thing. I wonder how long she's been here."

Talking was a great distraction. Before she knew it, Draco had swept her gracefully out of the room and into a whole new conversation altogether. However, what was once simply speculation soon turned into something frightening: she needed to know how he found her before more unsettling thoughts took permanent root in her subconscious.

Draco guided her up the Grand Staircase. From there, it was a short walk to the Head's room and they soon found themselves in front of a portrait of a woman in peach-colored clothing with long, raven hair and a divinely structured face. She smiled at them and asked them the password.

" _Amor Fati_ ," Draco told her without missing a beat.

It was when they entered the Head's Common room that Hermione's wrist began to hurt. Hissing, she pulled away from him, not noticing the concerned flash that lit his eyes. Trying to cover up the fact that her wrist was troubling her, Hermione strode past him toward her room and balled up her hands in an attempt to appear as normal as possible. Her little stunt did not go unnoticed.

"It's hurting again, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question. He had an uncanny ability to always know when she was hurt or upset, much like earlier when he'd found her crying in a classroom that hadn't been used for over twenty years in a corridor that was off-limits. Draco was very good at hunting her down. "Have you taken the potions I gave you?"

"Yes." She registered his immediate concern almost subconsciously. "I- I took two more than normal. I wasn't feeling well at supper and I just…" She gave a shuddering sigh. Rubbing pathetically at her wrist, she turned to Draco and asked, "What's happening to me? Why does it burn so much?"

"Hermione…" This was the beginning of something he knew had to be close to her heart. What she was about to tell him was something he knew, but, to put it rather bluntly, didn't want to hear. He had no regard for her feelings as he crossed the room toward her. "How long has it been like this? Tell me."

"A couple of months."

It added up perfectly.

Over the last three months her health had slowly declined to where even the simple act of climbing the stairs wore her out. It was as if pulling away from them was causing her to become sick. It made an absurd kind of sense that if the three of them were not close and connected together, one of them would be afflicted by some unknown illness. Draco couldn't fathom why it was Hermione that got the worst of it, while he and Blaise hadn't fallen prey to any sort of affliction. Even a simple cough had not derailed them.

Draco placed a firm hand on the wall and looked Hermione in the eye, searching for any explanation as to why she was so sick. As he stared into her eyes, his own wrist began to burn. He ignored it as he always did; nothing good ever came of addressing the burning in his wrist unless it was of great urgency.

Oh, but it was.

His wrist continued to burn, and as it did, Hermione began to relax. A nauseating fury consumed him, and for a second he believed he would fall to his death if it wasn't for his hand balancing him. They were quite close and Hermione appeared to be fine. Experimentally, he forced himself to move closer and with a surging force, a burst of light erupted between them.

It coalesced into a globe of golden light that soon grew and trapped them inside an incredible, shimmering veil. Whatever distance had been separating them was soon reduced to nothing more than a faint gap of air between their bodies. Hermione stared disbelievingly at the symbols upon their wrists, while the light continued to glow against any rational explanation.

"H-how… what is this?"

She reached out and tried to grab his wrist but he moved his arm away. "Don't."

"Don't what? Touch it?" Hermione scoffed disbelievingly. "I've seen it before. This symbol." She stopped, trying to figure out where she had seen it. Draco watched sadly as the gears in her mind began to decipher the meaning behind their twin symbols. She was a brilliant witch. He knew it was only a matter of time before she figured it out and pushed him away, giving truth to his worst fear: rejection and, ultimately, a lifetime of severe depression and anguish.

This symbol had proven to be more than just some celestial joke: they were connected together in a web, destined to either come together or grow so far apart that they were torn apart forever. Trelawney's prediction hadn't been some freakish nightmare but the inevitable truth: if they didn't figure out why she was growing sicker with each passing day, they'd lose her as they had the last time.

Draco would not allow that to happen again.

"I've seen this before." Hermione looked up to find Draco looking straight at her with a pained expression. "Is… is this the reason you were able to find me?"

He nodded stiffly. "It… gripped me in an icy pain. I… had to see if you were alright, Hermione. I couldn't just sit there without knowing that you were okay."

"But, how did you find me?" She looked at her own symbol and touched it. "It doesn't tell you my location, does it?"

He shook his head. "Unfortunately, no."

"Then _how_?" Tears were beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes and if he didn't act fast, she would lose any trust she had in him.

"Hermione, listen to me," he began, panicked. "I know this might be scary for you, and Gods, it is for me too, but I need you to remain calm until I'm done. Do you understand?"

She nodded, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

Draco inhaled deeply and let it out as slow as his lungs would allow him. This ritual of calming himself down had worked so well in the past, but now it seemed nothing more than a desperate act to stall for time. He wanted to tell her, wanted her to understand the connection between them. It was growing with need and untested sensations. He could feel the hesitation coming from Blaise as his worries collided violently into his. No matter how disastrous it might be, Draco had to tell her.

"We… we share a connection. But, just not any connection," he began again. "Not just between you and me. There's another who is connected to us."

She shook her head again. He could feel her disbelief and imagined the list of absurdities that was beginning to form in her mind, but all she said was, "That's impossible."

"Come on, Granger. Nothing is impossible. Haven't you learned anything from Trelawney?" When she didn't answer, it gave Draco enough reason to believe that she was just as unsentimental about the old witch as he had once been. Prophesizing and soothsaying weren't exactly things he agreed with, either. "Of course not. I was once like you, but that all changed when I read up on this connection thing back in third year."

"What makes third year so special?" She frowned, then thought of her impressive punch.

"Let's just say you did more than give me a bloody nose, Granger." He smirked. "I think you realize what you did that day." He leaned against the wall and stared at her in silent observation. "You sealed my fate, Hermione. Our fate. If it hadn't been for that little tantrum and outburst of anger, it wouldn't have awoken."

"What wouldn't have awoken?"

He showed her his wrist and said, "This. Our symbols."

"That is absurd. I've always had it. Ever since I was a child."

"Has it ever bothered you as it's doing now?"

She shook her head. "Never, I-"

"Then how can you stand here and tell me it's nothing more than a birthmark? How can it be when you're not the only one who has it?"

"Coincidence."

"You're in denial, Granger." Draco hissed, reaching for her wrist and tugging her body flush against his. "You can't ignore what's happening between us. Whatever is happening is meant to be. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Because it's crazy." She struggled to get out of his tight grip. He did not loosen his hand. "Everything you said is completely crazy. These symbols are nothing more than birthmarks."

Draco was growing increasingly annoyed by Hermione's reluctance to believe in their connection. Granted, it was absurd and based on nothing more than Trelawney's stupid little predictions, but he knew deep down that it had to be true. Why else would the three of them share the same fate and symbol only given to lovers and close friends? One that was so much of an abnormality that only a select few shared it between themselves? Draco could not accept that it was coincidence, not when so much damning evidence said otherwise. They shared something and he was going to do everything within his power to find out what it was.

With an angry curse, Draco dropped her hand and walked to his room without looking back. She would eventually accept that there was something more to their symbols and connection than she was willing to believe right then. Whether it took five minutes or five years, Draco would be there to accept her with open arms as he had been the past three years. If it took decades for her to come to the same conclusion, he'd still be waiting. He was used to it.

"I would go to bed soon if I were you. Emotional outbursts are tiring and you aren't well, and you've done a lot of crying tonight Granger." He paused, halfway through his door, and turned to find that Hermione was standing in the exact same position he had left her. A flower of anger blossomed within his chest. "Whether you're willing to believe or not is no concern of mine. I was only thinking about your welfare, but if you're so keen on not accepting what has been flashing so clearly in front of you for the last three years then by all means, go ahead. I won't stop you from wasting away, but at least know that whatever happens, I'm here for you. We both are."

Before he turned back around, she asked in a shaking voice, "Who else?"

A moment of silence passed. "Blaise Zabini. And, if I were you, I would start thinking about the other individuals involved. It isn't just you."

With a turn of his heel, he left her alone to contemplate what he had just told her.

She could hardly sleep. It was because she could not stop thinking about what Draco had said earlier, and what she had then been able to dig up once she was in the safety of her room. As soon as Draco had left her to her own devices, Hermione had gone straight to her room and rummaged through her belongings. If it hadn't been for wanting extra reading material and a quick laugh, she wouldn't have bothered bringing it.

It was a thin book with a binding the color of red wine. Sewn with black string and with gold leaf finish, the book Hermione had purchased during the summer before her third year was in remarkable shape. Inside the red cover was an illustration of several famous soothsayers that had procured their spots in history long before she was born, and were still seen as extraordinary witches and wizards that had smoothed relations between the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds. However, it wasn't the vibrant illustrations that had her so worried. It was what was written inside the thin pages.

 _The Red String of Fate._

 _Every soul is connected to another by what some religions of the world believe to be a red string of the strongest material. This string is tied around the pinky of one individual and the pinky of another. This bond cannot be broken, but the string itself can be tangled, thus proving that the road to one's true love isn't perfectly straight, but a perilous one filled with trials and errors. Some struggle more than others. Most people go their whole lives without finding their soulmates. Those who are lucky enough to find their soulmate spend their entire lives blissful with passion and concealed from the fascination and disbelief of those who have fallen victim to Fate's trials._

 _It is unclear why so many struggles and hardships are set up to hinder one's journey to their soulmate, but whatever the reason, it seems that it is the strength of individuals in question that decide whether Fate's string will be untangled. A connection between two people who continue to find one another is enormously improbable._

Hermione searched for some explanation as to why some soulmates shared the same fate and symbol. No matter how problematic the question, every answer seemed to be within the pages of the book.

 _Some soulmates have a more powerful bond than others; they share the same symbol. Although they cannot relive the glorious loves of their past, the symbol paves the way for a future reunion if both parties are willing. These pairings are forever known as Lovers of Fate, children of the famous Goddess of Love herself. A child descended from the manifestation of love is truly blessed with the principle of love itself. Blessed many would say, although some would argue that they are cursed._

 _Many people do not find their soulmate within one lifetime, and to find them again in another is nothing short of a miracle, and a demonstration of the work of Aphrodite herself._

Hermione had never been a firm believer in anything supernatural. She could hardly stand attending Trelawney's classes and when the moment came that her when she no longer had to continue with the class, she dropped it as quickly as her interest had evaporated.

She had always seen Trelawney as nothing more than a joke, but as Hermione scanned the pages under the glow of her candle, she couldn't help but wonder.

Draco had not been trying to get a rise out of her.

The symbol they shared wasn't a coincidence, which meant he had been entirely truthful and forthcoming with his prophecy.

Guilt stabbed at her. She had done possibly the worst thing she could do to her supposed lover. It wasn't until she re-read the pages that she realized that something was not right.

She just didn't have one soulmate, she had two.

Hermione sent a frantic glance at her door in the hope of finding Draco standing there, ready with an explanation. Surely, he would have one. She wanted to speak to him but it was much too late to talk to him. Although it was now Saturday morning, she was sure he would want complete peace and quiet.

It was dreadfully painful to sit in her room and not be able to talk to one of the two people who could help solve their problem. With each word she read, she grew increasingly dizzy and had to set the book down several times just to allow her vision to clear.

Whatever was happening, whether it was her own unwillingness to believe or something else which was making her sick, they had to figure it out. She couldn't care less if she suffered; she was used to sleepless nights, but to think that Draco was hurting in some way was more than enough to cause her to make a concrete decision. She couldn't allow it to happen. Even Blaise, someone she hadn't been able to trust, let alone talk to without something bubbling unpleasantly inside her, didn't deserve such harsh treatment.

Finding the courage that Gryffindors were known to possess, Hermione grabbed her book and set out to speak to Draco.

It came as a great surprise that Draco was not in his room, but was instead lounging on the couch as if they had never argued. It was as if he had been waiting patiently for her to figure out something that would allow her to come back to him and seek answers.

Hermione stepped tentatively out of her room, gathered her robe more securely around her frame, and proceeded to inch her way into the common room. A rough, tired voice rang out and stopped her from halting progress.

"Come here, Granger."

Her breath hitched and she said nothing as she removed herself form the wall and walked over to where Draco sat. He had given up on finding comfort in sleep, as she had done hours ago. Once she was standing in front of him, her knees practically touching his, he reached out and brought her down into a hug. Her body collided uncomfortably with his.

Cold fingers brushed against her wrists before being brought to the searing heat of soft lips. Mercury eyes plummeted into her auburn ones. "Took you longer than I thought it would," he admitted, pulling her closer to his body. "What have you discovered, Hermione?" His voice dropped to a dark tone.

She said nothing and drew circles around his own wrists. He tensed noticeably before relaxing. It was clear he was just as nervous about the entire affair as she was. But she had questions and she needed them answered before she could possibly ponder what they were going to do.

"A lot."

"Do tell me," he urged, pressing his lips to her temple. "I need to know what you've uncovered."

"We're soulmates," she got out. "You and me."

"And Blaise."

She nodded into his neck. "Yes, and Zabini."

"Are you scared?"

"Of course," Hermione hissed. "It's rare that soulmates ever find each other, but to have two? It's… a rarity isn't?"

Draco sighed. "It most certainly is. That's what we can't figure out- why it's so bad to have two soulmates. We think it's because we were able to find each other in our past lives."

"Is that a problem?"

"Yes." He looked down and ran his thumbs over her cheeks. "Don't you understand? We've been able to find each other without difficulty, but now we're faced with the worst possibility that could ever arise. We think… we think we might lose you if we don't find out what's happening to you, Hermione. We think it's because our souls aren't as connected as they have been in our past incarnations. It's like we're destined for one another, but our souls aren't in total agreement. It's just speculation, but it's the only idea we have."

There was a moment where they did not speak. Whether it was because they didn't want to discuss the possibility that one of them may be killed or simply tiredness, they remained silent.

"What do you think is different this time?" she finally asked.

"I have no idea, Hermione. But Blaise and I promise we'll figure it out before it's too late. You have our word."

This seemed to conjure something in her brilliant mind.

"How long have you and Blaise… you know… been together?" she asked blushing, trying to imagine two men in an intimate relationship.

Draco stared at her with a neutral expression. "A couple of months. It's an exclusive affair," he told her. "Why do you ask?"

She fidgeted in his arms. "I- just wanted to know."

"Does the idea of two men being together disgust you?" he asked in a strained whisper.

Hermione looked up at him, trying to grasp the strange expression lingering on his face.

Was he scared of what she might think about their relationship? She believed everyone was entitled to love whoever they wished. She was hardly one to judge who someone fell in love with or was attracted to.

"No." Hermione shook her head. Strangely, she didn't feel the least bit disgusted about knowing that Blaise and Draco had been that close for the past several months.

A flash of relief spread across his face as he gathered her more securely against his chest. "Merlin, that's a relief. I thought- we thought you wouldn't approve or that you'd be too revolted to even try with us."

Hermione buried her head in his chest, sighing when Draco rubbed his hands up and down her back.

"Thank you for being so understanding," he said after some time. "I think Blaise would appreciate the sentiment the most. He's been the most uneasy about the entire situation."

His words struck her hard. Moving so she was staring into his eyes, she asked, "He's been dealing with this alone?"

He shook his head. "Not alone. He's very open about his feelings. Not with everyone, but he certainly made sure he expressed his feelings to me."

Hermione reached out and brushed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "Sounds like a wonderful man," she murmured softly.

Draco leaned his head to the touch of her fingers. "He is a wonderful man. An incredible lover, too." He smirked.

"He's not alone in this anymore."

"No, he is not."


	5. 5

_x-X-x_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Hogwart's Library_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

 **Monday November Eighteenth, 1996**

"Come on, Hermione," Harry pleaded as he watched his friend pour over her Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. It had been over two hours since classes ended and she was nowhere close to finishing the notes Professor Snape had given them in the wake of a very unfortunate accident involving Neville Longbottom and Vincent Crabbe.

It had all started when Crabbe began taunting Neville mercilessly on his performance during a dueling session in class. He had been paired up with the short, chubby Slytherin the moment he stepped foot inside Snape's classroom, an unfortunate thing indeed. But he hadn't given up hope that he could meet Snape's high expectations.

A disaster if Hermione had ever seen one.

Neville was not the scared little boy he once was. He had grown into a wonderful man with a firm understanding of his abilities, which had not been given the consideration they deserved. The entire session had gone without incident until Crabbe decided to release his pent up anger on Neville, only to have the spell he had cast backfire. Whatever it was, it was far beyond anyone's level and had caused quite the commotion. Hermione had never seen Snape so upset. As a result, he had assigned three rolls worth of notes on Chapter Three- **Basic Wand Control and How to Recognize a Disaster Before It Happens.**

It was a rather odd title for a chapter. Evidently, a colleague of Snape's (someone who shared a fondness to point out the mistakes of his students) had written it during his youth and suggested that Snape use it as a learning tool with his first year classes. Snape's exact words were, ' _Obviously, some of you are not yet qualified to be in my N.E.W.T. level class. Beginning Defense Against the Dark Arts was not enough for some, so for Crabbe's failure to ensure that he was performing the correct wand movements, I'm assigning three rolls of parchment on Chapter Three. You will have until Friday to complete it.'_

There were no words of good luck, just a sneering grin that had appeared on his face at the prospect of his students scrambling to finish the assignment before class on Friday.

It wasn't the first time Crabbe had failed so spectacularly and it wouldn't be the last. They still had the remainder of the school year and the year after that. Hermione was not impressed by the Slytherin's outlandish behavior. She still sported the scorch marks on her arms and neck from the blast that had ignited from his wand when he cast the spell.

 _Oh well_ , she thought miserably. _The faster I can get this done, the better. I don't want to put it off until the last minute._

 _Speaking of last minute…_

"Instead of complaining about how long we've been here, why don't you spend your time more wisely? Like, getting a head start on your notes."

"I'll do it later," he promised for the umpteenth time that evening. "Besides, Friday isn't for another three days. A page a day won't be so bad."

"Says the boy who waited until literally the last possible moment to do one roll of notes for Transfiguration," sighed Hermione. "One would think you'd learn to spend your time more wisely instead of procrastinating until the Cornish Pixies come home!"

"Oh, that's a new one," Harry said dumbly.

She frowned at him. "Just go. I'm at my limit with you."

"Thought you'd never excuse me." He laughed brightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and dragged her attention away from her work. She leaned back in her chair.

"How are you feeling?"

She raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Better. Much better, thank you."

Harry nodded, awkwardly stuffing his hands inside his black pant pockets. His tie had been loosened at the beginning of the study session and his hair was a complete mess. Even his glasses were askew on his nose. He looked like he had just woken up from a nice nap.

"Rough night last night?"

"Katie's supposed to be coming back soon. Madam Pomfrey says she's made a full recovery but she shouldn't push herself too much for the first couple of weeks. I'm rather worried."

"I'm sure any adoring boyfriend would be." She smiled at him.

Harry shrugged, not wanting to go any further into his relationship with Katie.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Hermione said softly, reassuringly. "Just… don't assume she isn't capable of anything less than she's shown. She's a girl, but she is a great Quidditch player."

He returned the smile. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He paused. "But you're okay, right?"

Hermione tapped her quill against the surface of her favorite table. "More than fine." She didn't go into any more detail than that.

Harry looked relieved. He obviously had been itching to ask how she was. With her fainting spells stopping without warning and her youthful glow returning, she didn't think he knew what had been the cause of her illness or what had been the cure. All he knew was that it had passed and that was that. Nothing else. Not that she was planning on telling him about her lovers any time soon. Hermione knew it was unconventional and she didn't want Harry to freak out before she even got the chance to sort things out. She needed time – which they were both willing to give her.

Lovers. She still couldn't believe it.

A smile crossed her face but she quickly swept it off. Harry looked at her strangely before gathering his untouched books and placing them inside his satchel. "I'll see you later. Katie's meeting me at the Great Hall and I promised I wouldn't be late…"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." She grinned.

"More like ' _I'll have thy arse if you're late again, Potter.'_ " His impression of Katie was horrible, but didn't make the words any less funny.

Hermione waved at him, laughing as she did so. Harry shook his head, grinning, and walked away. It took her several attempts to collect herself. It wasn't until a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders that she was able to calm down.

"If it isn't your voice driving me crazy, Cara, it's your symbol," a deep, rich voice murmured into her ear.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the Italian Slytherin. Blaise was a very patient man, even more so when she promised to spend some time alone with him before they headed to dinner.

"How long have you been waiting?" she asked as she watched him walk around her and examine her books.

"Not long." He looked at her, considering. "I couldn't resist, though. You seemed a little bit too preoccupied with Potter and work. If it wasn't for you touching your wrist, I would've come down sooner."

Hermione instinctively touched her wrist and shivered. She hadn't realized how anxious and excited he was to finally share a moment together. She was just as anxious, and curious to see how it would play out.

"What would I have discovered, Hermione?"

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

She could feel a smile stretch across his face, which made her smile. Blaise kept his distance as he set down the book he had been examining intently. She was an avid reader, the whole damn school could vouch for that, but he had never taken the time to actually familiarize himself with whatever she was interested in. There were a lot of things that he didn't know about her. He wanted to change that. But with how things were going now, he'd have to take his time. Hermione was still tentative and he didn't want to rush her.

"You're flushed," he noticed.

Hermione straightened up. "I am not."

"Are too." He leaned in. "Your face gives it away, Cara. So does your symbol. Why so flushed, hmm?"

She scrambled for an explanation until Blaise's soft laugh released her frustrated tension.

"I am only kidding."

She could feel her cheeks glow with embarrassment.

Blaise leaned back in his chair and studied her quietly. It was one of the things that made her the most uneasy. He was always quiet, always contemplating something, which made her brain work in overdrive to figure out what he was thinking. As mysterious as the dark side of the moon, Blaise Zabini had a side that she had yet to discover.

Would she be able to let herself venture to the dark side? Would she be able to handle what she discovered?

She wanted to know. More than anything. More than all the books in the world, she wanted to know what that other side was. Blaise was never one show anything or express his emotions. It was definitely a learning experience for both of them. They had each other to thank for opening themselves up and allowing the other to see things they'd never shown anyone else.

That revealing moment had been a kiss.

Stolen quickly, barely a brush, they had kissed once some time ago and hadn't yet been able to sit down and talk about what they felt. Hermione hadn't even kissed Draco yet; she had given her first kiss to Blaise. Not that she had planned on giving it to him, it was a spontaneous decision. She just wanted the whole thing to be special between the three of them. It was hard. How could three people share intimate moments like that? She knew how normal couples did it, but she was not ready to do it with them. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to give herself completely to the Slytherin Princes.

Courage was a hard thing to come by. She needed more than a little to give herself to two people who had been destined to find her since birth.

Hermione could tell by the way Blaise was staring at her that he had something to say. Quiet and patient but also considerate. He was careful with his words and had to be absolutely sure that he had everything he wanted to say sorted out before he spoke. He wasn't like other boys in their year, who said the first thing that came to mind no matter how stupid it sounded. At least Hermione could rely on the fact that Blaise wouldn't say anything without thinking it through. That's what she liked about him.

Blaise reached over and gently took her hand. He stroked the symbol on her wrist, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he did so. He was worried, but he had no reason to be. She hadn't fainted since Slughorn's party. Heck, she hadn't even felt sick to her stomach in weeks. It was a great, but the fear was still present.

"It's darker," he observed, entwining their fingers. "How are you feeling?"

The question would normally have earned the asker a sigh and a wave of dismissal, but he was an exception. "Better, truly." She smiled. "I haven't fainted in weeks and I'm able to keep more down… have you figured out what was the cause of it?"

This made the smile that had appeared on his face drop. Silence fell over them but he did not stop playing with her small, slender fingers. "No. We haven't been able to find out what was the cause of it. We suspect it has something to do with all three of us but Draco and I haven't been afflicted with the same illness."

"Have you experienced anything at all?"

"Besides feeling your emotions and energy through our wrists?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, Cara. We haven't been struck down with anything remotely close to what ailed you. But we're not without hope. Snape has agreed to help us."

"Professor Snape?" she hissed, pulling her hand away from him slightly. He narrowed his eyes and kept a firm but gentle grip on her wrist. "What could he possibly have to gain from helping us?"

She was filled with anger. Not that she hated the man, but she hardly believed that he would willingly help them. Out of all the professors in the school, they just had to ask the most despised and biased one.

"He's been in our position before, Hermione," he told her softly. "He can help us, but he can't if we're not all willing to let him. Please understand that we're only doing this for you. We wouldn't have gone to him if he didn't already have prior knowledge."

"What prior knowledge?" she asked curiously. "Snape doesn't like me. He prefers Slytherins and he doesn't have the time or patience to help. He's never liked Harry or Ron either. He barely tolerates Gryffindors and I doubt he wants to help a bunch of teenagers with their love lives."

"Hermione." Blaise had lost his patience somewhere during her rant about their DADA professor. "I am aware of his past prejudices. I am also aware of his preferences. Did you honestly think that we would ask someone for help that wasn't completely capable? Snape has been in our place before. He has lost his soul mate. Unfortunately, it happens. We were blessed to have found each other and even more so to have accepted one another. His did not accept him. It left him a broken man, but not any less capable of helping others to find their soulmates."

She felt terrible.

So terrible that she didn't realize she was crying until Blaise leaned over and wiped her tears from her cheeks. He sympathized with her as his eyes glistened in the low light.

"I'm sorry." He looked into her amber eyes, tracing a line of freckles on her cheek to her lips. His fingers lingered briefly above her cupid's bow. He was struggling with something as he studied her face and smiled. " _Sei bella, Cara mia."_ Then he tilted his head and leaned in.

His lips were soft. They moved against hers so easily that it felt like they weren't being caressed at all. It was their second kiss but it was even more consuming than the first. There was a hidden passion, one that grew the longer their lips stayed interlocked. He moved his hand to her cheek and brought her face closer to his as their desire caught flame.

Hermione knew how difficult it was for him to just kiss her. It was hard for her as well. It took every ounce of his self-control not to throw her onto the table and ravish her.

Blaise pulled away slightly, leaving her lips to look deeply into her eyes. Her lips tingled from kissing him and a deep blush suffused her cheeks. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers once more, gently this time.

"I believe I just made Draco mad." He laughed.

"What is he saying?"

"That we're teasing him," he purred. "What do you think?" He parted his lips slightly over hers and darted his tongue into her sweet mouth.

She tried to hide her smile when he pulled away but failed. "I agree." Hermione placed a hand on his neck and kissed him softly. He shuddered. "I'll be sure to give him a kiss as well. From the both of us, yes?"

"Of course," he agreed and grinned. "Shall I leave first?"

"Is it already time?" She struggled to look at the clock. Studying in the back of the library had its drawbacks. It was quiet, but it was hard to keep track of the time when you were so immersed in what you were studying. She often missed supper and had to make due with whatever was leftover. And more often than not, she went back to the Head's Room hungry. Thankfully, Draco always had something to eat or she would have had to reevaluate her studying arrangements. Harry wasn't the only one who had recently started hounding her about eating; Blaise and Draco had said a thing or two about it as well. "It's okay if you want to leave ahead of me. I'll be down as soon as I'm done."

Blaise nodded. Without a word he stood and put some distance between them. Their eyes never left each other.

"Send word if you are in trouble." He brought her hand to his lips and smiled. "We'll be there to catch you."

Hermione watched as his lips brushed against her wrist. She involuntarily let out a soft moan that fortunately didn't catch his attention. With a final goodbye, Blaise left her to her work.

"Hermione?" asked a small, fragile voice.

She turned from packing her bag and found Ginny stand rather stiffly with her arms glued to her sides and her hands balled into fists. She looked upset and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Hermione set her bag down immediately to go comfort her friend. "Is it Dean?"

"I, uh- no." She sat down at the table and played with the hem of her shirt. "Can I speak to you for a moment? It'll be quick, I promise."

She nodded. "Of course." Hermione sat down and waited for her to continue. She had no idea what Ginny wanted to talk about, but she was the friend that she usually turned to when she needed help. They were each other's shoulder to cry on and were quite close. Hermione had been there when her last boyfriend was found cheating on her, she was there when she learned that Harry asked Katie out, and she was going to be there for her now.

"I was wondering…" she began, avoiding her eyes, "if there was anything going on between you and Zabini."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she quickly tried to hide the shock that she knew Ginny had seen flash across her face. "No, there's nothing going on between us. We're just friends. Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to make sure is all." Ginny smiled weakly. "I've seen you two hanging out around the library and I couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between you two. I'm glad to know there isn't."

Hermione stared at her. "Well, there isn't. We're just friends like I said. A totally platonic relationship, but I hardly see why that's any of your business, Ginny."

Hermione was well aware of her countless affairs with older boys. She was notorious for boyfriend hopping. Although far from being a whore like Pansy, Ginny was still viewed as the slut of Gryffindor in her year. Her brother was oblivious and the only reason Harry knew was because Hermione had accidently shared that piece of information with him. It was more like a theory, really. Nothing to be taken too seriously, but it had swayed him away from her somewhat. It was no secret that Ginny had had a crush on him since first year and had proclaimed her love during fifth year but unfortunately he couldn't reciprocate the feelings. Not because of the rumors, he just simply did not feel the same.

However, that did little to explain why she was so concerned about her relationship with Blaise.

"Are you… do you fancy Zabini?" Hermione asked carefully.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she nodded. "I have for a while. I was going to ask him to Slughorn's party. But, I'm glad he's not seeing you, Hermione."

"What the hell is the supposed to mean?"

She laughed arrogantly, in complete contrast to her fragile state when she'd first appeared. "Look at you." She waved vaguely at her. "You're plain. Did you really think you stood a chance? Evidently you did, otherwise he wouldn't have taken pity on you and snogged you."

Her heart dropped. After knowing Ginny for so many years, her true colors were coming to the surface now. How long had she been watching them? What had she heard? Ginny wasn't usually mean but she certainly never held back her words.

"Even Blaise has standards." She sniggered. "I guess he was trying to boost your self-esteem by snogging you." Ginny paused and a disgusting grin stretched across your face. "Don't worry, Hermione. You'll find someone eventually. Someone is bound to want even an ordinary thing like you, hmm?"

Another sharp knife stabbed her heart.

How could she be so cruel? Forget being honest.

Hermione stood abruptly, knocking over her bag. Ginny watched, uninterested, as she scurried to collect her belongings. Just as she gathered her things, Ginny lashed a hand out and knocked her things from her hands. Hermione hurriedly bent down to gather what she dropped. That's when a black shoe came crashing down on her right hand.

" _Argh!_ " cried Hermione as she desperately tried to get Ginny from stepping on her hand again. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" she said scornfully, her façade of an innocent school girl fading completely. "I'm simply reminding you of your place, Hermione. It's your honor to serve your superiors and it's my privilege to make sure you do." Ginny bent down, a deceptive smile plastered on her face. "You are going to stay away from Blaise, Hermione. If you know what's good for you."

Before she moved away, Ginny looked down at her and glared.

Her expression changed and she giggled crazily. "Look at you!" Ginny slammed the heel of her shoe into her hand and Hermione let out a pained cry. "Reduced to the floor, where you belong. It's only a matter of time before he gets bored of you. Lavender and I have a bet, you know. She thinks as soon as he shags you he'll leave. I think she's right, but there isn't any fun in that right?" She crouched down so she was at eye level with Hermione. "I know you're shagging Draco, Hermione. And the moment Blaise finds out, he won't want anything to do with you. You may have Draco wrapped around your dirty finger, but you're not going to get Blaise so easily." She stood, dug her heel into her hand one last time and stepped back to view her handiwork.

"You're nothing special. He's shagged other girls, including me. And let's be honest, he could do so much better than you, _Mudblood_."

Ginny broke into laughter and shook her head at the pitiful state she found her adversary in love in.

"You're so damn pathetic!" she chuckled, her eyes brightening up with devious satisfaction. "I'd clean that up if I were you. Madam Pince is a total tyrant when it comes to her books, and even more so when it comes to dirty blood."

Hermione did not look at her in fear that she would belittle her for crying.

Blaise had not moved since he sat down at the Slytherin table. For some strange reason he didn't feel right. It was as if he was missing a huge part of him, even though his mind and heart were certain it was there. He had never felt so unsure or so empty.

There was a great deal of commotion echoing around him but the playful chatter had no effect on him. In fact, he really didn't want to be in the Great Hall at all. He had no appetite, no willingness to stay.

He could feel the uncertainty, the hopelessness. He was so drained of energy and worried that he hardly noticed the door to the Great Hall open. A fury in red waltzed in and from where he sat, he immediately knew who it was.

Ginny Weasley looked surprisingly satisfied and overly assured. Blaise watched as she looked at the Gryffindor table and scanned for an empty seat. Once she found one her attention turned to the Slytherins. He could practically feel her eyes glide over the sea of faces until her eyes fell upon him. In that instant, he knew that something wasn't right.

His wrist burned like the flames of dragon fire.

He was losing his connection with Hermione.

She lingered there for what felt like an eternity. Never had she thought that someone she'd known for the majority of her school years would turn against her, much less hold a secret resentment toward her. The Weasleys were profoundly different compared to a lot of the Pureblood families. They held absolutely no prejudices against Muggleborns or the like. They were very accepting, and that that was extremely hard to come by, especially in Pureblood society. Apparently Ginny was different.

Sniffling, she pulled herself off the floor only to fall back down. Her legs felt like jelly and she could barely stand without stumbling over. Hermione searched frantically for her wand, thankful that Ginny hadn't decided to go through her things and take it. That would have been the needed push to report her, something she simply did not have the heart to do as it was. She loved Ginny, even if she had destroyed her trust and ultimately their friendship. She could still hear her cruel words circle aimlessly around in her head.

 _He could do so much better than you._

If he could, then why was he putting the time and energy into their relationship? She didn't want to believe that the past month was all for naught and that his actions were only driven by some selfish need to unite them. She had never been in a stable relationship before, so she really didn't know what to expect. All she knew was that trust had to be earned and not taken, and that both parties had to put all that they were into it, or it would fail.

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she was quick to wipe it away. Without thinking she tucked her knees underneath her and gathered her books. As she threw them into her bag, her wrist began to burn. Beginning with a slight discomfort, the pain grew so quickly that it caused a low hiss to issue from her mouth. It had never hurt so badly. Her first thought was that one of the boys was angry, but something told her that it wasn't the case.

Hermione ignored it for the most part. Slowly, she stood and secured the strap of her bag on her right shoulder as she walked away from the table she had been sitting at. She walked past the Restricted Section as well as the Magical Creature and History sections until her knees threatened to collapse beneath her. She quickly grabbed hold of the nearest wall to steady herself but it wasn't enough. All of a sudden she felt dizzy. The world around her shifted dramatically and the images that she could see were blurry and unrecognizable. Her wrist was burning so much that the pleas for it to stop were drowning out her crying.

She was far from being rescued but she was not without hope.

Ginny's words brutally echoed in her head.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she believe what he said? For someone like him to want someone like her was a huge impossibility. Hermione didn't believe in soulmates, but the thought that there was someone out there for her – even one was remarkable – was enough to get her to open her mind and her heart.

Blaise… she had thought she could trust him. She had thought that his feelings, and Draco's, were genuine. After hearing Ginny ridicule her, just like her older brother had, if for a different reason, made her think otherwise.

She felt utterly stupid. Even though she hadn't given them anything significant, she felt that she had lost everything that meant something to her – her body and soul.

Hermione felt the world around her shift unexpectedly again and she struggled to keep herself from falling, but she couldn't.

The world around her went black and she fell.

Draco stood outside Hermione's door for a while. He was tempted countless times to storm in and demand that she tell him where she had been but he held himself back. He was worried but not nearly enough to barge into her room uninvited. It wasn't like her to skip meals, especially when they had just gotten her to join them every evening in the Great Hall. Even if they didn't physically sit together, he still found comfort in knowing that she was eating, and seeing that she was putting in the effort to recover. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

This past month had been more than he had ever wished for. Between the three of them, they had shared so much and gotten to know each other beyond the realm of friendship. Hermione was very open and inquisitive, which was to be expected. She had been a bit angry that they asked for Snape's help but he knew that it was slowly dawning that the professor's insight would be useful to them. After all, he once had been in their position. Fortunately for them, they would all be together in the end. Snape would have to wait until another lifetime.

 _Maybe the next time Potter's mum will come around to accepting their bond_ , he pondered. It wouldn't have been the first time she did it, either. Potter always seemed to be getting the raw end of the deal, too. Sometimes the reunion between two people was not strong enough to pour their love into a child. From what Snape had told them, Potter wouldn't have been born if it wasn't for his father being her chosen one during this lifetime.

For all that, Snape didn't hold a grudge. He simply wished that he hadn't been so foolish during this lifetime so that he could have found the happiness and love that was taken from him during the last.

Draco exhaled. He felt for the man. It made his connection with Blaise and Hermione all the more precious. If he had had to go through something like that, he didn't know what he would have done. To lose someone – through death's old trickery, or simply not being able to find them, was more than enough to strike down even the strongest of men or women. As difficult as it sometimes seemed, Draco knew he wouldn't take any lifetime for granted. If he found them and they were involved with other individuals, he would accept that. All he wanted was for them to be happy.

He took a tentative step back. If Hermione was truly upset or tired, then she had every right to vent alone and in the privacy of her chambers. Why she was upset was still a mystery. Maybe it was just the stress of finishing three rolls of parchment in a short amount of time that had his mind so overworked. He could feel her tension through the symbol, but he was sure that wasn't the reason he felt so damn strange.

"Has she returned?" Blaise asked when Draco entered the common room.

He looked at Blaise questioningly. "I thought she was in her room."

"She never came down to supper, so I thought she might have come back here. You didn't notice her come in?"

"No, which means she isn't here. I can feel her, but…"

"But what, Draco?"

He didn't know how to explain it. "You spoke to her before you went down to supper, right?'

"Yes," Blaise said a little too slowly. "I told you before we left Herbology that I was going to meet her at the Library."

"Did she… seem out of it in any way?"

Blaise glowered at him. "You know very well how she felt." Then he paused. "What does this have to do with Hermione's absence at supper?"

Draco couldn't place it but he had a haunted feeling that the Weasley girl had something to do with her disappearance, which he told Blaise.

"If Weaslette knows anything about Hermione not showing up we won't get it out of her."

Draco sighed, frustrated.

Blaise seemed to be in his own world.

Unbeknownst to Draco, Blaise had some experience with the youngest Weasley. Not sexually, of course. It was back in his second year, a shameful time that made him cringe thinking about it. He hadn't been driven by anything remotely moral and his intentions were less than saintly. He was a hormonal adolescent boy that had only two things on his mind: girls and masturbation. Those things went almost hand in hand with his darkest of fantasies, which did not include anyone from their year. He didn't believe in affection until after his viewpoint changed. That was in third year after Draco got punched by Hermione and he and Blaise had become secret lovers.

It was no secret that Blaise was bisexual. Not that a lot people knew his sexual orientation, many just thought he liked whomever he fucking liked. He would be happy with anyone from either gender but he didn't come to terms with it until their third year, during which he had developed some semblance of a relationship with Draco. However, it hadn't always been that way.

During his second year he went out with Ginny. It was a quick and brief affair with awful lasting effects. He had observed back in his third year that she hadn't truly gotten over their break up during the summer before her second year. It hadn't even been his fault: a rumor spread that she was cheating on him. He investigated, and lo and behold the rumor had turned out to be true – a rarity in the school gossip mill.

She used to be so innocent and carefree, until her true nature began to blossom. She was not the funny girl that he had first been attracted to, but someone he had grown to loathe. Even after she broke his heart, she continued to torment him physically and mentally. She used harsh tactics to get his attention. Tactics, he feared, she had used to get to him now.

"You may not be aware but I went out with her back in second year. It was a quick, meaningless affair. Brief but fun. It was nowhere near what I feel for you and Hermione though."

"What do you think she's done?"

It took a moment for him to collect his thoughts, but when he did the words came out quickly. "I think she may have confronted Hermione in the library."

Draco considered this for a moment but there was no validation for this reasoning. "Even if she did, there's no way she could have figured out about our connection. For Merlin's sake, we can't feel her, yet we know she's near. It's like she's only connected to one of us now and we both know who that is."

Blaise's eyes glistened in the light from the hearth. "Why do you think that is?" His voice was shaky, unstable. "She knows of our feelings but she's blocking us out."

"She's only blocking you out, Blaise…" Draco's voice held sadness and dread. "I don't why she's doing it or if it's even intentional. After a month, even if she suddenly lost her trust of you, which would be uncommon for a soulmate, you shouldn't lose your connection to her. Even Snape felt some sort of connection with his after she chose to elope with another."

By the look on his face, Blaise could tell that he wouldn't want to hear what Draco was going to say next. While he hadn't enjoyed their discussion thus far, what Draco said next shocked him.

"Ginny still fancies you." Draco looked penetratingly into his eyes. "You may ignore all the rumors, and I never thought the day would come when you didn't know everyone's business, but word in the corridors is that Ginny is planning on taking you to Slughorn's next party. She's been telling everyone that you've said yes but, of course, no one has the balls to actually confirm it."

A deep coiling of disgust and hatred wound inside him. "She said _what_?"

"I… I thought you knew."

"I may be perpetually drawn to knowing what's happening, but I do not catch every fucking thing, Malfoy. Who has she told?"

"Mostly her friends from what I've heard." He paused, and his eyebrows drew together. "You don't think someone has told Hermione, do you?"

"Count on Weasley and Potter to try to protect their best friend." Blaise growled. "Of course they didn't. They were probably too scared to tell her."

"What if Weaslette thought you were taking Hermione?" Draco ventured worriedly. "She could have gone and warned her to stay away from you."

"Like her little threat would ever deter her-"

"You might be surprised just how far she would go." Draco said sadly. "She's threatened other students. Why do you think the Gryffindors are afraid of her? Fuck the Slytherins. The real bitches are in their house." He let Blaise ponder the information before he continued. "Ginny may look innocent, but she's lethal and capable of going to any lengths to get what she wants. Blaise…she's _attacked_ other students just for _looking_ at her. Why do you think Snape and McGonagall are on their last limb? They can't control her. No one can control a fire like Weasley and if we don't smother it, it will spread and consume the only one we care about."

Blaise felt a pang of guilt rise inside of him, knowing of Ginny's evil nature firsthand.

He had passed Weasley on his way out but hadn't found her appearance suspicious. In fact, he hadn't felt anything at all when he brushed past her and ignored her stares. She had called out to him and he had turned back briefly. Now he realized that the spot where she had been standing had given her the perfect view of their little table.

She had seen and heard everything.

Blaise felt sick. To think that whore saw them kiss and touch one another so intimately made him sick to his stomach. Ginny was cunning and capable of doing anything to get what she wanted, but he'd never thought she would have the nerve to hurt another person to get her way.

"We need to find her," Blaise pleaded, allowing his emotions to break through the thick barrier of his wall. "I… can't feel her and it's driving me crazy. It's like she's given up hope. Given up on us, despite it being so new. Weasley's done something, Draco, and I'm not going to let the fucking whore destroy what we've worked so hard for."

Draco and Blaise stood and walked to the entrance of the Head's room. Before they could reach it, the portrait swung open suddenly. They stepped back to allow their guest to step in, only to be confronted by Potter.

He looked panic-stricken. He was out of breath and desperate. Harry looked frantically around the room until he realized that he was face to face with the exact person he was looking for.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco hissed, ignoring his enemy's panicked movements.

"Snape requires your presence. Says it's urgent."

"What the bloody hell is going on? Why does Snape need to see us?" Blaise hissed, wanting nothing more than to stop talking to Potter so they could leave.

"I-It's Hermione," he huffed. "She was found by Madam Pince and was taken to the hospital some time ago. Snape's looking for you two- told me to tell you to meet him in his office."

Their hearts dropped to the bottom of their chests as their worst fears were confirmed.

"She blacked out and she's not responding to anything."

"W-what?" said Draco is disbelief, looking to Blaise and then back at Potter. Neither of them spoke.

Darkness was closing in.


	6. 6

Initially, I planned on updating this every 4 days but that wouldn't have been fair to my beta. She starts school really soon and I don't want her stressing over finishing editing my chapters in such short amounts of time. So, as a compromise I decided to publish chapters as is- after going through as much as I possibly can- and posting them as is. There will be errors but as long as that doesn't bother you then all is fine. If not, please be patient. That's all I ask. I really didn't want to overload her with work.

Important: Has been fully edited by my beta :) Thank you so much **aethling**! Couldn't have done it without you ^-^

Oh, how time escapes me!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Hogwarts Hospital Wing_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be Ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Monday, December ninth, 1996**

 **7:45**

Blaise stared at Potter in total disbelief. As anger rose up inside him, he balled his hands into tight fists and held onto the only remnant of control he had left.

What the hell did he mean that Hermione had blacked out and was unresponsive? He had seen her not too long ago and she had looked perfectly fine to him. She'd even said that she felt better than she had in the past several weeks. She had looked better: her skin wasn't as pale, her body wasn't as thin as it had been, her eyes had glowed with newly found fondness, and her smile – gods her smile – he had never seen anything so sparkling and tempting. He prayed that she hadn't lied to him, even though he could vouch for her improved health and appearance. That didn't stop him from thinking the unthinkable, though.

Potter moved toward the door before looking back. "Are you coming or not?" he asked. "I don't have time for you two to decide whether or not you want to see Snape but I- "

"Shut the hell up."

Harry and Draco turned to Blaise. His eyes gleamed with unrepressed anger that threatened to burst at any moment. He was on the verge of a total explosion that neither of them wanted to be present to see. Whatever Blaise was dealing with was surely the product of something obscure and desperate. Even as Draco stared at him, using his eyes to beg for him to calm down, he could feel his own emotions sway violently within him. Like a surging wave in the ocean, he too felt as if he would explode at any moment.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Potter asked, his eyebrows drawing into a hateful expression. "Weren't you listening? Snape needs to see you and-"

"My hearing is perfectly fine, Potter," Blaise snapped, briefly focusing his attention on the annoying Gryffindor. "What I want to know is what happened to Hermione. What's wrong with her? Why isn't she responsive?"

"I don't know!" Harry shouted, annoyed with Blaise's unspoken threats. He was just as distraught as they were and wanted to find the culprit just as much as they did. "She was found by Madam Pince, who contacted Madam Pomfrey, and Snape as well."

"Why was Snape contacted?"

"He was in the Hospital Wing when Madam Pomfrey got the message. Since she was low on help, he offered his assistance. When he got there… look, why don't you just go and see him? He said he would meet you in his office."

They had no more time to ask questions as Harry ushered them swiftly out of the Head's room and to the Grand Staircase. As if sensing their distress, the staircase did not try to confuse them or deter them in any way. They had somewhere to be, and quickly, and they would not tolerate the staircase's usual foolishness at a time like this. It was one of those instances that Apparation truly would have come in handy, if it weren't impossible because of the protective charms and spells placed on Hogwarts and the surrounding landscape. Blaise would have Apparated right to Hermione's location if it hadn't been for that tiny nuisance.

Despite his anger, Blaise remained silent and determined.

They followed diligently behind Harry as he hurried down the flights of stairs to the fourth floor. There, Blaise turned a sharp right only to be stopped by Harry, who looked at him questioningly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to see Hermione," he told him. "Snape can wait."

"He said-"

"I don't give a damn what he said, Potter," he growled. The words tore from his throat as if summoned from the depths of his chest. The veins in his forehead protruded fiercely against the dark skin of his temples and his eyes were narrowed into slits. "I want to see her and you're a fool if you think you can stop me."

Blaise hurried down the corridor, making it all the way to the Hospital Wing within minutes. Draco and Harry followed closely behind him. Since they almost ran to the Hospital Wing, they made it just in time to see Madam Pomfrey step away from one of the hospital beds near the entrance. A grim expression crossed her face and she looked hopelessly lost despite her countless years of being a Healer. She obviously did not know what to make of her patient's predicament. She swept past them, clenching several phials of different colored liquids while muttering things under her breath. Draco inclined his head slightly but he didn't catch anything that would help them understand Hermione's situation. It was when he turned back around that he saw her.

Hermione looked so pale. Her skin was colorless and had lost the usual golden hue that Draco and Blaise had immediately grown fond of. The adorable smattering of freckles that dotted her nose was now stark against her pallor and even the auburn hue of her hair had lost its luster. The warmth that radiated so naturally from her skin was, without a doubt, gone. Everything about her seemed lifeless. If she were to open her eyes, they feared that they wouldn't see the same vibrancy that they had grown to love. Blaise was the first to approach her. Draco stood behind him, too afraid to venture any farther. He could feel Blaise's uncertainty and hesitance as his eyes glided over to Hermione, lingered for a moment, and then flicked back to him. Just as he was at a loss for words, Draco also struggled to speak. Harry, on the other hand, was more than willing to share anything he could to catch them up.

"Madam Pince found her…" His words filled their ears but did nothing to ease the pain of seeing her in the state that she was in. Blaise ignored him for the most part. His words meant nothing to him when he just wanted to ask Hermione what had happened.

 _If only she would wake up_ , his bitter conscience told him solemnly. _She has to wake up. If she doesn't, there's no telling what will happen._

 _Don't you dare think that way, Blaise._

Draco's voice echoed in his mind. He turned to find him standing close to him, his eyes fixated on the witch laying on the bed before them.

Even the light in his eyes was dull. Seeing Hermione in the bed, unresponsive, as their connection with her slowly deteriorated, was more than either of them could take. What they wanted now was answers. Before she woke up – which they both prayed from their hearts she would – they wanted to know who had done this to her and why.

"What happened to her?" Blaise asked in a trembling voice. This question stopped Harry's rambling and momentarily stunned him. "Who did this to her, Potter? Who touched her? Who fucking did this to her?"

His words were cut off as a sob escaped his lips.

Draco placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't shake it off, but he wanted to.

Harry glanced at Hermione. Her breathing was even, which was a good sign according to Madam Pomfrey. Although she had been unresponsive when she was found, the potions that had been given to her were working phenomenally well. Unfortunately, there was no one hundred percent guarantee that they would completely heal her. That worried him.

"I-I don't know," he confessed hopelessly; a reflection of how he felt.

"Did anyone see her before she blacked out?"

"I-I'm not sure."

When Potter looked away and refused to answer, Blaise let out a frustrated growl and launched himself at him.

"Blaise!" Draco tried to stop him from attacking Potter. They were equally strong and almost perfectly matched. However unlike Blaise, Draco's state of mind was better and he had a better control over his body as well. When he was able to pull him away from Potter, Draco wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him from doing something he would regret.

"Dammit, Potter," Blaise growled, agitated. "We need to know who was in contact with her before she blacked out. Surely someone from your fucking house would have told you?"

Harry glared at Blaise for a moment before something dawned on him. "Ginny." Her name struck them unexpectedly. "On my way down for supper, I ran into her. She seemed very anxious and asked me where Hermione was. Of course I told her. She always goes to the library after her last class."

"Was there anything else?" Draco was calm and collected compared to his companion, but that didn't mean he wasn't as concerned about the welfare of their witch.

Harry shook his head, giving Blaise another reason to be angry. Blaise had seen her on his way out as well and hadn't given her a second thought. Not that he even given her a second of his time either, however. How irresponsible to think that her intentions at the library were purely innocent and good-hearted. She didn't have a heart. He should know. Weasley had sought her out for a reason and it took every damn ounce of his control not to go out, find her, and attack her.

"That fucking bitch did something!" He could feel tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He would not break down in front of Potter or Draco but he almost couldn't help himself. Ever since supper he'd felt this uncomfortable mix of disgust and agitation. A silk blanket had been draped over him and the red string that connected them all together had been pulled and toyed with. He clenched his jaw and the muscles in his neck and mouth tightened. He felt so angry; not just at the Gryffindor whore, but toward himself as well. He had run into her after he said goodbye to Hermione. For someone who spent most of his days in silent observation, he hadn't found her unusual appearance questionable even though it wasn't usual for them to run into each other.

Blaise broke free of Draco's hold and staggered over to Hermione's bed. He took one look at her and broke into tears.

He could feel her life wasting away. Whatever connection he was able to hold on to was the only thing he had of her, and to think that she was slowly leaving them was more than he could take. Blaise reached out and clasped her hands.

Potter stood back and examined him. The rumors about Hermione being involved with Draco had died down since the beginning of the term, but to think that she was involved with two guys was unbelievable.

He wanted to tell them something, anything that would help ease whatever they were feeling. It was against Ginny's personality to do anything drastic, and if it were true that she had done something to Hermione, he wanted to know. Ginny was deceptive and schemed like no other. From what Ron had told him, she would have been the first Weasley to be sorted into Slytherin if it weren't for the Sorting Hat's inclination to consider a student's request. Ginny would have made an amazing Slytherin for all the wrong reasons.

"What makes you think Ginny had anything do with this?" Harry asked, watching as the Slytherins took the two available seats beside her bed. "I know Ginny. She wouldn't do this to anyone. She's-"

"You don't know her like I do, Potter." Blaise sighed, exhausted. "Simply being in the same house does not mean you know everything about a person."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means…" He quirked an eyebrow as he inclined his head to the side, "that everyone has a side that they show their peers and a side that they keep from everyone. Ginny just so happens to have a side of her that is dreadfully evil. She isn't the perfect little angel you see."

Harry didn't know what to think of what Blaise was telling him. On one hand, he thought he was lying. Ginny couldn't possibly be capable of attacking another student, but that was a contradiction to something he had chosen to forget.

It was true that Ginny was far from the angel she projected herself as. Her light had been stripped a long time ago and replaced with rays of darkness. He didn't want to believe that the little girl he once knew was now maniacally evil and cunning, but sometimes people change, and it's up to their peers and friends to change their perceptions.

Harry sat down on the adjoining bed, placed his elbows on his thighs, and looked at them. "What do you think she did?" he asked quietly.

They exchanged looks, debating whether they should tell him what they thought and if it would benefit them at all.

Blaise tore his gaze from Draco and said, "We think she may have said something to her." He reached out and stroked the bandage on her hand carefully. Harry eyed the cherishing caress of his thumb curiously but didn't say a word. "She may have warned her to stay away from me and…" he trailed off, his eyes focusing on her hands. Harry nodded, although he didn't quite understand.

"Why would she want her to stay away from you?"

Before Draco could open his mouth, Blaise took the initiative to answer. "Ginny and I used to date," he told him. "Rumors were going around that she cheated on me and you know how rumors are around her. They usually hold absolutely no truth, but this was the rare occasion that a rumor turned out to be true. She tried to explain herself but I wouldn't hear it. I broke up with her the summer before her third year and she's never been the same."

"Three years to hold a grudge like that?" Potter was unconvinced. "Why would Ginny do such a thing?"

"Why, indeed." Blaise's voice was laced with hatred. There were words in his vocabulary that he would rather not use to describe the red-headed girl. She was vile, manipulative and to be quite blunt- a _bitch_. Even though he was still not used to seeing her in such a different light, he knew that Ginny would go to any lengths to get what she wanted.

She had gone to Hermione, hurt her, and irrevocably damaged his view of her. He could not sit idly by and allow the filthy harlot get away with what she'd done.

Blaise caught Harry's enquiring look. He wanted to know what was going through his head. If anything, he wanted to know if Hermione would be alright. Blaise could see it in his green eyes. The way they captured the light and sprinkled flaring specks of jade was enchantingly hypnotic. He could _see_ the concern as it danced visibly across the spectrum of his eyes. Potter truly cherished her.

"Ginny doesn't deal well with jealously and she allows her emotions to control her. If she did this, she did it because she didn't like the fact that Hermione was spending so much time with me."

"Why would she not like it?" Harry's voice cut deep, indicating to them that he didn't necessarily enjoy the fact that they were spending so much time with her, either. "I know you've been getting close to her. I don't know why she bothers, though. You're nothing special and the fact that she's reached out to you and extended that to you isn't something I agree with, nor approve of."

Draco chuckled, smirking at his candid statement. "We don't care about your approval, nor do we want it. Our relationship with Hermione is none of your goddamn business."

"What is your relationship with her?" asked Harry. "You've gotten awfully close to her. Why is that?"

They stared at him for a moment.

Draco and Blaise valued their relationship with Hermione, but how did they go about telling Potter that their advances were not of the selfish nature and that their feelings for her were true?

No one would understand it, let alone accept it. It was something that they had long since accepted. They wouldn't get any support and the only people they could count on were themselves and the girl that they shared the connection with.

"We care about her." It was a safe and simple answer. "You can think what you want, talk to whomever you wish, and spread whatever rumor that's born from your hatred, but remember that everything we do is for her."

It took several minutes for the message to get across.

Maybe he understood. If not, maybe one day he would. All that mattered was her happiness.

"I'll leave so you can spend some time with her." Harry told them, moving towards the double doors of the wing.

His eyes flashed with unspoken recognition and the beginning of understanding.

He left without another word.

* * *

It took more than the assurance that Hermione would pull through to get them to leave half an hour later. Even though it had done no good, they had continued to beg Madam Pomfrey to allow them to stay. However, their pleas had done nothing to sway the old witch. Rules were rules and they had no choice but to leave at the appropriate time. She told them they could visit after class tomorrow, but what good would that do when they needed to know she'd be safe for the night? They didn't want to leave her, but they did promise that they'd see her first thing after class Tuesday.

Blaise watched as the doors closed gently behind them. He stared at the wooden doors for quite some time until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Even through a thick layer of clothing, he could feel Draco's warm seep through and fill his body. He felt better, but only a little. The magnitude of the situation was causing them both great harm and neither of them knew what to do with the emotions that were rising up inside them. They had to see Snape. They needed to know what was happening and how to get her back.

"We better get going," said Draco softly. "Snape is going to want to talk to us, get a statement. And, if what you said is true, then he'll want to know about Weasley."

He nodded. "Alright, let's go."

Draco led the way, keeping an eye on Blaise as they walked. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed his hand so he could hold it as they descended the stairs.

He gave it a comforting squeeze. "It'll be alright."

"You can't assume that, Draco," he said painfully as he laced his fingers through his. He loved the way his hands felt in his, even more so because Hermione's fit hands so perfectly in both of theirs. Blaise caught sight of their wrists, watching as the sign of their love darkened.

It hit him like a tsunami of astronomical proportions; an idea of what he thought was causing Hermione's feelings to be so unstable.

"Draco," he began with caution, his eyes fixated on their symbols, "I think I understand what might be happening."

Draco looked at him, puzzled. His grey eyes turned into a storm that couldn't be calmed. "Well, enlighten me then. What do you think is causing her to black out?"

"I think… I think she may be doubting our love for her." Blaise didn't want to say anything that wasn't true. He loved her. With all his heart, body, and soul. He had loved her since the day he realized he couldn't live without her. Soulmates or not, Blaise knew that his feelings towards Hermione and Draco were not manufactured, and were the most powerful things he had ever felt. The profound magical serenity that washed over him whenever he was near them could not be falsely acquired. His feelings were absolute and nothing could change that. "Snape said something similar himself. A person could doubt the love from their soulmate, which could cause prolonged and lasting negative bodily and spiritual effects. Don't you see? She's doubting our love and her body is torturing itself because of it."

Draco took a while to consider the possibility that Hermione could be doubting their love for her. What he couldn't understand is why just Blaise? Why was he the source of her misery, when he did nothing to show her that he didn't love her? It had to be a powerful, outside force. But, what could be so powerful that it caused someone to lose trust and hope just like that?

Draco didn't say a word but tightened his grip on Blaise's hand. He transmitted words of encouragement that could not be voiced aloud at this time. Instead, he stopped, turned, and brought the man into a hard kiss. It was more than enough encouragement for Blaise. He dropped his hand, pushed Draco against the nearest wall, minding the portrait behind them and furiously kissed him. He let out all his frustrations on him through the synchronization of lips and the flick of his tongue. He pulled away from him, noting the mercury glint in his stormy eyes. He saw a fire that he'd never seen in them before and for a moment he was lost in the eyes that had captured his attention so many years ago.

If his theory were right, then they would get their revenge even if it meant destroying the friendship between Hermione and a person that she thought she could trust.

Ginny Weasley was going to pay.

* * *

A conceited smile stretched across her face as she stood in the background, watching their embrace. There was something devilishly delicious about what she had done. Even more, the thought of what she just saw was equally stimulating, to say the least.

Although she wanted to immediately embark on the journey that she knew she couldn't come back from, she had other things to do first. It was a sad, pathetic excuse, but all her hard work would pay off later. She was sure of it.

She clenched the bottle she had been holding for quite some time. The curve of the phial fit perfectly in her devious hand. The contents of the phial were perfect for her plans. So perfect, that the one that she wanted desperately would find themselves incapable of controlling themselves around her. One day, she would just pour the contents of the phial into his morning coffee.

With one final glance, she stepped away from them as the shimmering edge of the cloak she had stolen whispered against the cold, stone floor.

She slipped away when she knew they were not looking.

* * *

Professor Snape's office was located off a corridor deep within the dungeons. It was a cold place. Dank and dark and filled with the dead. It was a prime location for the ghosts of Hogwarts, but those who hadn't been drawn to it during their lives certainly wouldn't want to be anywhere near it during their death. The only ghost that truly enjoyed the dungeons was the Bloody Baron, who was known to roam the empty corridors during the dead of night.

The ghost was not at all surprised to see his own lurking in the dungeons.

Draco greeted the Bloody Baron with a look of hesitance. As a child, he never particularly liked ghosts and he could very well blame that on his dear Aunt Bellatrix. She had loved to scare him and he thanked Merlin that she didn't have children of her own. Nonetheless, he respected ghosts and that was all the validation they needed to continue their journey.

He looked back at Blaise and ushered him to follow. Blaise gave him a weak smile and was gifted with a smile in return that calmed him more than words ever could.

The two of them gathered together and strode down the corridors with newly found confidence.

They arrive at Snape's office but before they knocked on the door, they turned and faced one another.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Blaise assured him.

Draco nodded and with one swift movement, he turned to the door and knocked three times. They waited silently and within seconds the door swung open.

Severus Snape wore his signature black robes that highlighted his pale skin.

Snape looked unfazed by the recent events that had caused one of his students to succumb to an unknown magical malady, but he was known to present himself with indifference and indignation. His cold, black eyes swept briefly over them before he stepped aside to let them in.

Draco and Blaise entered, followed closely by their former Potion's Master. Once they were safely inside, he took no time in reprehending them for what he believed to be a crime.

"I would very much like to know why you didn't immediately come to me when you thought something was wrong." He swept passed them in the billowing haze of black as he retreated back to his desk. A sweet-scented potion was brewing in a cauldron on his desk. "Do either of you care to explain?"

Neither of them dared to speak at first, but Draco's nervous voice finally broke through the barrier between the three of them. "We thought she was cured, professor."

" _Why_ , do tell me, has she been struck down again with the same illness you two claimed you cured?" he asked with a hiss. "Did you not notice the similarity between the symptoms?"

"We thought we fixed it! She was better!" Draco insisted.

"You thought _nothing_ ," he snarled, narrowing his eyes at the two Slytherin six years. "You thought you had cured her but she is right back where she started. Do you understand the seriousness of this situation? You could _lose_ her! _What_ were you two thinking?"

Blaise lowered his head and said nothing. Draco, on the other hand, continued to push their reasoning behind not coming to him in the first place.

Of course they were aware that if they didn't find the reason behind her illness they could lose her forever. Being her soulmates, her illness didn't just affect her. It affected all of them. If she passed on because of their decision to think less of the situation, to sit back and watch as she deteriorated right before their eyes, they would regret it forever. What kind of lovers would they be to allow such a thing to occur? They had given her all that they could without consummating the relationship. That couldn't happen if she doubted their love for her in the first place. They had to convince her that everything they had done and said thus far was the truth and not some sick game they were playing.

The Fates absolutely loved a good game and they played well and unfairly.

"Everything had been fine up until tonight," Draco told him. Snape focused his attention on his godson, narrowing his eyes as if daring him to continue. Draco did not relent. "Hermione was stricken by something that we thought had to do with our union with her, not something that was strictly forbidding it. We've waited, just like you asked. We kept our distance until we knew she was ready. I've taken my time with her but my patience has run its course." He inhaled and let his breath out shakily. "I'm just as lost as she is and I don't know what else to do."

Snape took a moment to collect himself before informing them of what he thought was the correct cause of their soulmate's sudden illness. "I believe-" He looked between them again and his eyes landed on Blaise. Blaise could feel his eyes boring into him, into his soul, as if the answered lay within him. He looked up imploringly at Snape. "That it may very well be your union. If one is in doubt, the others suffer. Did I not tell you that?"

"You did." Draco stepped in to defend Blaise. "But, if one of us is in doubt then why is only Hermione being afflicted? Surely Blaise and I would have been struck with something as well?"

"She has a stronger connection with you, Draco. Of course she may doubt what she is feeling for you, but it is Blaise that she doesn't trust. You have been doing what I've asked, haven't you Zabini?"

"I've done everything you've asked of me, sir," he told him, his anger flaring out like scorching rays. They licked his skin and he let out a growl. He lashed out, grabbed the nearest object, and hurled it at the furthest wall from them. Snape quietly watched as his possession smashed against the wall, but he appeared unfazed by his student's sudden destructive outburst. Better to have him let out his frustrations on his items than on him, he supposed bitterly. A quick _Reparo_ would have the glass sculpture back to new, anyway.

"There is something else," Blaise told him before Snape even thought about addressing him again. "I think- we think that she was falsely tricked into thinking that my feelings weren't real."

"What gave you that impression?"

"I saw her earlier today." He could feel his heart hammering away inside his chest as he fought the urge to break down again. He would find the courage to go on or die trying. All of this was for her and he would be damned if the Fates got their way again. A lifetime of misery without her was not something that he, or Draco, wished to experience, not if they could help it. They'd had enough of playing the Fates' game and wanted to put a stop to it. They wanted to prove that love as strong as theirs could exist between three people. Love could not be confined. "Her mark was dark and there wasn't anything that would suggest otherwise. You said so yourself. If our marks are dark, then our union is strong."

Snape did not deny it because it was nothing but the truth. He rubbed his left wrist unconsciously as he waited for him to continue.

"I left her to collect her things after we talked. She told me she would follow right after me and as I walked out of the library, I ran into the Weasley girl. I… I think she may have done something, said something to Hermione because I felt a shift the moment I sat down for supper. Something wasn't right. It was as if I was losing my connection with her even though I had fortified my relationship with her only a few minutes ago. It felt like I was being pushed away, just when I had finally been able to push through the barrier of our differences."

Silence fell between them. It was several minutes before Snape found his voice and spoke.

"There is a reason a connection between three people is cursed." He clearly did not want to speak of what he was about to share with them. Instead of being a coward and shrinking back, he rubbed his wrist and looked at them. "One of them is stealing the love of another."

He glided away from them in a swirl of black and midnight blue and found refuge by the fire of the hearth. He looked into it, gazing upon the flickering embers that caused unnaturally colorful fireworks to ignite within his soulless eyes.

"It's the natural order of things, to have just one soulmate. Anything more and it throws everything off. Of course, occasionally these individuals find a way to be together. But sometimes, the ones they are promised to don't deserve them. You would be surprised by how many people abuse the people they love and brush it off. That's false hope and love. The abusers make promises that they will change and their victims believe it. It takes a truly brave soul to break away, to say enough is enough and find solace in themselves or someone else. Love is a beautiful thing, but if you cannot handle it, you do not deserve it. That's one of the reasons a connection between three exists, to prevent abuse in love. Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, had many consorts and believed that love should be cherished and shared. Did that make her any less capable of loving herself? Perhaps, but that not is not the issue. She is the conductor of the symphony that is love and she can change it in a heartbeat. She has been hurt and she is only protecting those others from being hurt as well."

Draco and Blaise walked slowly over to their professor and discovered something that they did not wish to find.

Dark, black eyes stared into oblivion; he had no reason to push forward, he had lost the life that could have been his if his soulmate hadn't been promised to another.

Snape's beloved had been taken from him by his worst enemy. Soulmates rarely found each other; it was an even rarer occurrence if they found each other in more than one lifetime. But to be denied by one was an extraordinarily unlucky occurrence. Should it happen, the results were grim; they would spend their entire lives under a cloud that could not be vanquished by even the strongest rays of sunlight. They could go around pretending to be happy and in control of their actions, but it was usually a facade. Many of them committed suicide or turned to the oblivion of alcohol, or shared their bodies. Anything to feel alive, even for a moment, because they could not get that feeling any other way.

Their light was taken and they had no choice but to settle with the artificial lighting of Fate's own making.

"It may very well be that you were promised to Ms. Weasley, Blaise. But, there is no way to validate that."

"What if her feelings are marked by her own jealousy and unreasonable devotion?" Draco ventured. "She's obsessed with him, Professor. She's been spreading false rumors about the two of them that hold nothing but lies and deception. I highly doubt that Blaise is promised to _her_." He spat out the words as if they were poison, which they very well should be. He hated her for what she was doing to them.

This seemed to spark something inside Snape's eyes.

Snape pulled away from the hearth and looked at them. It was as if what he had said caused a sudden shift in the air. It was hope that was forming inside his eyes, and the light that had been withheld from him for so long was finally being allowed to shine through.

"Obsession is not affection. Do _not_ mix up those two concepts."

"Then, even a promise that has been made can be broken?" Blaise asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Exactly," Snape confirmed with an inkling of a smile. "Not everything is perfectly structured. Life can end at any moment, and we are only given a day at a time. It's the same with love. I know of Ms. Weasley's reputation, and I can only say that she has to learn to be true to herself or she will not find the final piece of herself that she is seeking."

Blaise moved out of Snape's way, watching as his tired form dropped into the chair behind his desk. He looked exhausted.

"What do you suggest we do?"

Snape looked at them warily and sighed. He grabbed for his wand, waved it, and summoned something from the other side of his office. Within moments the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, followed faintly by the decadent smell of apple turnover pastries. It didn't occur to others, but Snape very much liked sweets. He flicked his wrist and two identical chairs followed the refreshments. Blaise and Draco took a seat.

"What Ms. Weasley has been suspected of doing will not be fixed in a single night. Hermione still doubts you, whether the rumors that have been spread are false or not. Doubt cannot be feigned; therefore, you must talk to her and prove to her that whatever Ms. Weasley said wasn't true-"

"I've already proven it to her," Blaise hissed through a clenched jaw. He didn't know how many times he had to tell him before the message got through. "What I want to know is how we move forward. How do we get past this bump and secure our relationship with each other?"

Snape's eyebrows furrowed together as the skin of his forehead creased into an awful expression. "Will you allow me to speak, Zabini? I'm sure you're frustrated but this isn't something you can force." While Blaise calmed down, Snape took a moment to take a sip of his coffee. He placed his cup onto the saucer, his finger tracing the rim. "How do you feel about her, Blaise?"

Blaise looked taken back.

Was he really asking him how he felt about Hermione? After three years of consulting him, researching, arguing, he was going to sit there and ask her how he felt about her? Snape was wise beyond his years but his question was marked by nothing but idiocy. What a ridiculous thing to ask given the seriousness of the topic.

Of course he loved her. He had never felt anything so strong, so unbelievably pure and tremendously fulfilling. His days were marked by nothing but thoughts of her and Draco. Even without the strength of their relationship, he would still feel the same incredible surge that he always felt when he was near him. Hermione, although a fairly new addition, provided him with the same exhilarating feeling of being on top of the world, if not above it. He loved everything about her: her cleverness, her attention to detail, her smile- nothing was out of reach when it came to the depth of his love for her, and even Draco. It was with his guidance and encouragement that he was even able to admit his feelings for the witch.

"I love her," he told him.

"Have you told her that?"

He shook his head, having no idea where this conversation would lead them.

"Maybe it's time to allow that love to be known."

Snape sat back in his chair and observed them quietly. Moments escaped unnoticed and by the time the clock struck eleven, they had no idea of the journey they were about to embark on.

* * *

 **On a side note-** 200 (roughly) followers! Guys, that is absolutely amazing! And, this story has been added to two communities! I would love to thank the authors/readers who did that :) I'm thrilled y'all are liking this so much. I couldn't ask for more patient or supportive readers! Thank you :)


	7. 7

_As always, enjoy._

 _Please read the **A/N** down below._

 _Fully beta'd by the wonderful_ **aethling** :) thank you, girl!

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 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Six_

 _x-X-x_

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*~ Fated to be Ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

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 **Wednesday December Eleventh, 1996**

When the light broke free from the hold of the curtains, her eyes fluttered open.

It was strange to wake up in unfamiliar surroundings, and even stranger not to know how or why you ended up there in the first place. Hermione took waking up in the Hospital Wing quite hard. She didn't know what had happened, or remember anything at all for that matter. The only clues she had to go by were the pain in her hand and the faint ink of her symbol.

The memories hit her hard.

The last several days came back to her in a swirl of constellations. From meeting Harry in the Library to kissing Blaise during their small gathering and being threatened by Ginny... she remembered everything.

As she sat up, ignoring the pain that pierced the newly healed skin from where Ginny had stabbed her with her heel, her thoughts travelled to Blaise.

How on Earth was she supposed to present herself? How was she going to act like nothing was wrong? She didn't know. All she knew was that she had better be true to her word.

Hermione knew that she wouldn't tell Draco or Blaise about what happened. She couldn't bear the thought of telling them and having them go berserk. Ginny had been her friend and someone she could count on, but it seemed she had lost her. Lost her to whatever was hurting her. If she had known that Ginny loved Blaise, would she have bothered forming a relationship with him? Even if they were soulmates, wasn't his happiness far more important than hers?

There were so many questions and so few answers. She wished she could find something that would help her. With all these corrosive thoughts and the pain that her best friend had caused, she didn't know what she was going to do. All she could do now was get out of bed and see if she could track down Draco and Blaise. Before she could even push the covers off, a hand pushed her back and her eyes met black.

"Rest," Blaise told her soothingly.

She honestly couldn't believe it. How did he know that she was in the Hospital Wing? Had the school gotten word of her attack already? And if so, where was Ginny? Had she been caught and sent to Dumbledore's office? Guilt rose from the pit of her stomach. Ginny had been the one to attack her, so why did she feel so damn guilty?

Hermione looked at Blaise for answers. He did not say a word as he gathered the covers and tucked her in gently. He then sat in the chair for some time before he spoke.

"Cara." He looked up at her and she was lost in his gorgeous black eyes. It wasn't until now that she found absolute attraction in something so deep and penetrating. "I know you're scared and confused but I need you to listen to me. I… I need to tell you something and I hope you don't-"

Obviously, he was nervous. He wanted to tell her something, but the words were caught in his throat. He couldn't articulate anything more than chopped sentences as his mind thought one thing and his heart pressured him to feel another. This conflict between his mind and heart hurt Hermione. She didn't like seeing him so confused and lost for words. Her impatience was getting the best of her when Blaise turned to her with greater determination and gathered her hands in his. They stared at each other, their heart beating as one.

"I know what she did to you, Hermione. And before you say anything-" He gave her a stern look before continuing, "-what she did hasn't been spread around school, thank Merlin. Potter was the one to tell us about your collapse and… we pieced together what happened and I just… I needed, no, _wanted_ to speak to you. She hurt you, gave you false information that I just have to clear up."

Hermione sat back, pulling her hands from his, and waited for the worst. She hadn't thought she could handle them finding out, much less Blaise coming to her to end things.

Oh, Gods… What if he _was_ there to end things? Their relationship had just started and there was so much potential for it to turn into something truly beautiful. Hermione felt like throwing herself at him and begging him to stay. Despite how desperate that seemed, she would have if it wasn't for Blaise stopping her by starting to speak again.

"We used to date, Ginny and I. She… was wonderful." He paused and frowned before continuing. "I honestly don't know what happened. Everything was going fine until the rumors began to spread. I found out several weeks later that she cheated on me and I immediately broke things off. As horrible as I was when I was that age, I wasn't going to date someone that went around snogging other blokes."

She allowed him to continue. A horrible, coiling pain shot through her but she kept her mouth shut as Blaise picked up the story.

"I never really opened my heart up to anyone except her. However, I only told her a fraction of the things I've told you. But, still. She was my first experience at everything: snogging, hugging, love. I truly believed I had found someone that I could relate to, someone I could confide in. I was lost for a while after that and you probably already know where this is heading. No need to bring up the past. It wasn't until the end of our second year that my whole perspective on life changed."

"What happened?" she dared to ask, although she had a feeling she knew the answer.

"I found you."

She almost choked on a sob upon hearing those words.

How could three little word mean so much to her? Even if they weren't the three little words she was dying to hear, she still cherished them.

Deep down, she knew that he felt the same way. It was still too early to say, but Hermione knew that she loved them, _both_ of them. It was only a matter of time before they all told each other what they felt. She would be ready for that moment whenever it came.

"If I hadn't found you, I wouldn't be where I am today, Hermione." With each word, he moved closer to her. It wasn't until their noses were brushing that he spoke again, this time his voice was very confident. "Even though I was with others, I never felt anything remotely close to what I feel with you and Draco."

Blaise touched her cheek with the backs of his fingertips, traced the curve, and smiled. Hermione could feel her heart rate accelerating. As she sat there, she could hear the faint drumming of his heart as well. No doubt from nervousness, but Blaise was never known to be nervous or shy. He was always strong and so filled with pride that it almost made her doubt herself sometimes. Even Draco had always had an egotistical side, but as the years passed he had mercifully lost that boyish attitude and adopted a more refined and professional one.

Hermione had to admit that she had always found the two of them attractive. In their own unique ways, she saw something that she just couldn't help but fall for. From Draco's dark demeanor to Blaise's calm and mysterious presence- she always secretly liked them.

"D-does Draco feel the same way?" she asked, nervously. Their lips briefly touched each other's and it took all her control not to lift her head and really kiss him. "He's been with others, I know. But… does he feel the same way as you?"

"Of course he does, Cara," he breathed, his chest heaving rapidly as he tried to calm himself down. "He loves you."

"He loves me." She couldn't believe it. "A-and I love him."

Blaise lifted her chin, his finger tracing her cupid's bow. "I love him as well." This agreement sealed one side of their connection, but what about the other?

"Do you love me, then?" Hermione couldn't bear it any longer. She needed to know. She needed the reassurance that she was desperately waiting for.

She didn't have any time to prepare herself when Blaise's lips came crashing down and claimed her. From the gasp that was forced from her lips, his tongue was welcomed with enthusiasm. She allowed him to explore her, to claim her mouth in more ways than one. No one else besides Draco could stake a claim on the tender skin of her lips. No one else had the privilege of having her. Only they did.

Hermione moaned into his mouth as Blaise sat beside her on the bed, leaning over her, their thighs touching. She moved to the side for him, allowing him all the room he needed to nestle himself there and bring his hands to her hips. They clenched at each other's clothing; his hands found the hem of her shirt and lifted it up, exposing her smooth stomach. She arched her back and brought herself closer to his frenzied touches.

"I love you." He broke away from her long enough to say those words. "Fuck! It feels so good to finally say that…" His fingers touched her hand and she winced, pulling away from him and looking away.

His eyes narrowed down at the atrocity of a scar that Weasley had given her.

How he hated her for doing what she'd done.

Hermione might be trying to gather her thoughts at the moment, but his mind was already made up.

Blaise wasn't going to confront her like she had Hermione. As tempting as it was to put her in her place, he wasn't about to lower himself to her level. No, he was going to get his revenge another way. And what better way to get back at someone than by fucking with their mind?

His grin escaped Hermione's attention as she tried to push him off her.

"Don't touch it."

Vulnerable as she was, she certainly wasn't weak. It took him by surprise how much strength she had as he leaned back a little, keeping a safe but comfortable distance from her claws.

He chuckled at that. "Why wouldn't I want to touch it?"

"It's ugly."

"No part of your body is ugly, Cara." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Draco agrees."

"Well, Draco needs to stop interfering in other people's business."

"It's just as much his business as ours."

She huffed in defeat. "Only because your connection with him is stronger…"

Blaise stared at her. "We could be as close, you know. If you opened your heart."

"My heart is open." She trembled in trepidation. She certainly wasn't ready to open her heart to anyone, but she could learn. As primordial as their relationship was, it had a chance to grow into something truly beautiful.

Hermione wanted that _so_ _badly_. But despite her feelings, she couldn't get Ginny's words out of her head no matter what she tried. For someone so seemingly gentle, she sure knew how to do as much damage as possible. Hermione didn't know if she could even talk to Blaise in public without alerting the Pureblood's attention. It was as if she were everywhere.

She shuddered at the thought of what Ginny could do to her. Her hand flared with hot, searing pain.

Blaise touched it with his fingertips. "She'll pay for this, Hermione. If it's the last thing I do. She'll pay."

"D-don't," she pleaded to deaf ears.

"Don't what?" he asked, almost amused. "Don't think disastrously horrid thoughts?"

She nodded stiffly but remained silent.

"I can't help what I think, let alone feel, Hermione," Blaise said darkly. He leaned over and stole a long kiss. "She hurt you."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the outlining bruise. Wincing again, she watched reverently as it was healed instantly from his touch.

"How?" she asked, her eyes going wide with awe and wonder.

"Healing powers, I suppose." He shrugged. "All soulmates can heal minor injuries such as this. Didn't you know that?"

Hermione shook her head, raised her hand and stroked the area where the bruise had been. Marveling at the mystic powers of soulmates, she turned her hand over and back to make sure that what she saw was real.

Her bruise was gone, but where did it go? If her hypothesis was right, it would have gone somewhere else, but the bruise was nowhere to be found. On her body, at least.

Her eyes travelled to Blaise, scanning his thick neck, the broad expanse of his chest, and down his arms but found no sign of her bruise. She wanted to shrug it off as some magical phenomenon. Despite her belief in soulmates, she was limited by severe reluctance to accept the fact as it was- the bruise had simply vanished without a trace.

Hermione sat back against the pillows and furrowed her brows. "I-I didn't know that."

"Well, you learn something new every day, Cara." He laughed before his eyes grew dark and he leaned back in his chair. "Will you promise me something?"

She nodded. "Anything."

"I want you to stay the hell away from her."

She didn't need to be told twice. There was no way that she would even consider confronting the girl that had hurt her. "Of course," she paused, "What are you going to do?"

He chuckled, which didn't instill any confidence in her. She was worried that her boys would get into trouble. Granted, what Ginny had done was unforgivable, but she truly didn't want to put any more strain on their relationship and draw attention to herself.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she withdrew from him.

"What's wrong?" Blaise was instantly at attention. His hand sought hers and this time she didn't wince, because the bruise was gone and no trace of pain remained.

"I- Ginny told me to stay away from you." She gulped, fighting the tears that swelled in her eyes. "I-I don't think I can do that, but if she finds out…"

"Enough." He pressed his lips to the symbol on her wrist. "Let me worry about her, alright? She is nothing and she is not going to harm you again."

She nodded, believing every word that came from his lips. Hermione had no doubt in her mind that his words were true and that he would live up to the incredible Slytherin Knight that he had become. She wasn't weak, but it didn't hurt to have someone to lean on. The fact that she had two people that she could turn to was a blessing.

Hermione smiled wildly at him and Blaise returned it. "Glad to see you're feeling better," he said. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are feeling better, yes?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "Perfect," he hesitated, "The Yule Party is coming up-"

"-I'm not going," she interrupted, offering him an apologetic smile.

Blaise merely smiled at her. "Where is that Gryffindor courage, hmm?"

"Must have lost it…"

He considered that for a moment before continuing on, "I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."

"What about Draco?" She suddenly felt sick and nervous. She honestly didn't want to go, but to only accompany one of them was truly unacceptable. But if she had to go, and it meant getting to spend time with both of them, she would do it at any cost. "He's not a member of the Slug Club. What do we do about him?"

Blaise seemed amused by her questions. He leaned forward and took her hand in his and stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. "Relax, Cara. We know what we're doing."

"I don't like the sound of that," she mumbled, leaning back and sighing. She felt weak and tremendously shaky. She could feel Draco's laughter bubble inside her.

 _At least he found this whole conversation amusing_ , she thought. The fact that she was almost obligated to attend the Yule Party was irritating by itself, but to come with a date was absurd. For weeks she'd been fighting the decision to either stay within the confines of the Head's room, or spend an evening with their Potion's Master who would no doubt be in another delirious state of inebriation and celebration. One evening of that was enough to find a subtle dislike for anything alcoholic and she had no desire to repeat the experience.

"We have it all planned out."

At the moment she didn't know what he meant, but as their conversation progressed, she found herself a little bit more calm and relaxed. Their little reunion came to a sudden, unwelcome halt. Evidently, Blaise wasn't supposed to come so early in the morning, which he had failed to tell her. Sneaking in to see her wasn't something she would condone on a normal basis, but she was appreciative that he had come to see her, despite getting yelled at by Madam Pomfrey.

On his way out, he turned and smiled at her. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn't just gain a lover, but a future that they had been seeking for so long.

With that peaceful image in his mind, Blaise exited the Hospital Wing with a severe expression as the bruise that he had taken from Hermione finally took form on his skin. Taking the pain from her was a sacrifice he was willing to make, even if he had to lie to ease her conscience.

* * *

Cold fingers brushed against the bruise and shudders ran through him at odd intervals.

After seeing Hermione, Blaise had gone straight to the Head's common room and relayed the news to Draco. He wasn't the least bit pleased that Blaise had taken her wounds from her. He had used their unique connection and transferred them to himself, relieving her of whatever physical damage Ginny's attack had caused her, both from the bruise on her hand and the bruises that hadn't been visible beneath layers of clothing. She was released several hours after Blaise's visit, having been deemed healthy enough to attend classes. Much to Hermione's distress, she was not allowed to. Madam Pomfrey made it perfectly clear that she was to go straight to supper and then back to the Head's room. She was not to do anything else until when Madam Pomfrey told her she could resume her classes. Distinctly frustrated, she had agreed and somehow coaxed the older witch into allowing her to go to the library. Despite the Healer's disapproval, she agreed and that's where the Slytherin Princes found her.

"I can't believe this is the first place she goes to after being attacked." Draco sighed, clasping his hand around Blaise's wrist.

Blaise didn't look down but instead trained his eyes on their witch as she busied herself with books and homework. Knowing her, she must have gotten the assignments from her classmates. Of course she had, otherwise she wouldn't return to the scene of such a traumatic event. Anger threatened to bubble inside him, but for the most part Blaise kept his livid thoughts and shamefully outraged emotions to himself. He didn't want to accidently send any books hurtling towards the group of second years huddled together in the far left corner. They had chosen the perfect location to execute their observation and he didn't want a simple accident or an onslaught of items to disclose their location. Instead, they placed several Silencing Charms around them and kept still.

As they sat back to watch over Hermione, Draco's thoughts travelled down a darker parth. They still hadn't seen Ginny since the incident. Even Potter and Weasley hadn't seen the conniving Gryffindor since yesterday morning. He wondered briefly where she could be hiding.

Had she taken the unsaid promise of retribution to heart? Had she given up simply because she couldn't get what she wanted?

Draco's thoughts were becoming a nuisance.

No matter how many times he tried to disengage himself from the clutches of his mind, the conniving little harlot found a way to reel him back in. It was like she had a special magic to cause disruption between individuals who shared a connection.

He sat back, his mind working furiously.

Could it be possible for someone so young, so unnaturally gifted in the art of seduction, to wield such power? It was an alarming thought, but he would have to wait to get the answers to that particular question.

Draco turned to Blaise, raised a delicate eyebrow and silently questioned their motive for hiding themselves away in the most boring section of the library.

"You know the answer to that, Draco," Blaise answered aloud, gripping his hand more firmly in his. "I want to make sure she's alright."

"I should be the one saying that since I didn't have the opportunity to see her earlier," hissed the fair-haired Slytherin. "Are there are more sinister motives at play, Zabini?"

Blaise rubbed the bruise affectionately as he eyed the source of the pain with loathing.

The connection was indeed strange. Something Snape had forgotten to mention during their little lessons was that with the extraction of pain, all the memories associated with it came as well. He could feel every emotion Hermione had felt; he felt sick, betrayed and broken. Despite the onslaught of memory and information, he couldn't quite understand Hermione's reasoning for returning to the scene of the trauma. What had brought her to the library when they had finally spoken of their heart's desires? Had doubt been planted inside her heart and forced her to seek reference to something she was struggling to understand?

He watched their witch as she moved about fluidly in a swirl of amber and orange essence. She smelled divine, and tasted even better. The taste of the deep kiss they had shared still lingered on his lips. He could still hear her breathy sighs and feel her hands as they searched for purchase. A soft growl emanated from him, causing Draco to look questioningly at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you feel that?"

Draco considered it for a moment before the reverberating touch reached out to him. He cursed severely under his breath as he repositioned himself in his chair. He hadn't thought about the kiss they'd shared, but thanks to Blaise, he'd have more than just the feel of their lips to accompany him the rest of the day.

"Have you talked to Snape again?"

"No." Truthfully, he hadn't. Between lessons and Quidditch matches, he didn't have the time to seek the older Slytherin's audience. "Have you?"

Draco shook his head, confirming that neither of them knew what to do. If his words the last time they'd spoken were true, if they needed to get Hermione to secure her feelings towards them, then they would have to act fast. There was no telling what Weasley would do if they allowed their relationship linger in limbo between eternal bliss and damnation. The connection was strong and growing with unrestrained need. If nights filled with her wandering touches didn't signal that they needed to prove their commitment, then they had to take the chance to come together as one.

The fair-haired Slytherin placed his elbows on his thighs and sighed. "I don't think I can force her."

"No one said anything about forcing her, Draco."

He shook his head and stood, careful not to disrupt their bubble of security. "That's not what I mean," he confessed. "I don't think I can make her stay with us."

"What are you saying?" the dark haired Slytherin asked apprehensively.

Draco combed his fingers through his hair. It was Blaise's hot stare that forced him to turn and capture his gaze.

"I don't think I can force her to be with us, Blaise. If a connection between three isn't meant to be, then I would happily resign my position. To give her a chance at a normal relationship."

"You don't think it could work," Blaise said quietly, his voice laced with anger. "You don't think we'd be accepted."

"You can't honestly think that the Wizarding World would accept us!"

"I'd rather face the wrath of judgmental bastards then ever be separated from the two of you."

"How can you be so sure of us?"

Blaise stood and stared at him for a second before saying, "Maybe it's not me who needs reassurance, Malfoy."

For some reason, that quiet comment plunged him into a world of horrible thoughts and he sat when his legs would no longer support him.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting there. His nerves were getting the best of him and the anxiety of knowing that she was without protection, even sitting only a few feet away, was a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Draco knew he should have accompanied Blaise to see Hermione. He knew with all of his heart that she would have loved to see them both. Especially after the attack, she would have been delighted to see two familiar faces in a world gone dark. But something had held him back. He had lied to Blaise about having more important things to attend to when Blaise first went to see her. Something told him that Blaise knew about his insecurity that morning. For one, his eyes weren't as dark as they normally would be when he was upset. And two, the love and undying passion that lit up inside them was more enough evidence to lay part of his mind and heart to rest.

He had been the foolish one. To think that Hermione would be happy with someone else, or with just one of them, was ridiculous. She was happy with them, and to take away that happiness was to take away their future.

Draco couldn't exactly pinpoint where his doubts were coming from, but he would be damned if he allowed them to continue to haunt and deter him.

* * *

The next two days were nearly unbearable and the only thing they looked forward to was visiting their witch. The Slytherins made frequent visits to the Hospital Wing, where Hermione had been forced to return after exhausting herself in the library, causing some of the bruising to reappear. Not all of their visits were condoned by Madam Pomfrey. The only thing that soothed her irritation was Hermione's soft, pleading tone. Any other visitors would have gotten a firm slap on the wrist and been sent on their way. The young witch was extremely happy about their visits.

"She's not that bad," she told them one evening as she snuggled closer to Draco. Even their embrace had gone unnoticed by her. "She's actually very helpful and insightful."

"Insightful and ancient," murmured Draco, earning him a firm slap on the chest and a fit of giggles. He had smiled at her, as did Blaise.

Hermione had caught his eye and given him an extra wide smile.

Their last visit had been early that morning, and they could still feel her warm presence.

Draco laid his head on Blaise's chest and sighed. They had just finished their last lesson of the day and were spending some much-needed quality time with one another in the Heads' Common Room. Hermione was due to come back at any moment. During their last visit, Madam Pomfrey had instructed Blaise to make sure Hermione took it easy and that she didn't do too much with her hand due to the risk that the wound could get worse. Madam Pomfrey didn't fully understand Hermione's mysteriously disappearing and reappearing wounds, but she wasn't taking any chances. Cleared with otherwise perfect health, Hermione had been released from the Hospital Wing during lunch and neither of them had seen her since.

"Where do you think she is?" Draco asked, lifting his head up to meet his lover's gaze. As much as he loved the feel of Blaise's body against his, there was something missing. A soft, curvy body that fit so perfectly between them. Not only were they missing their conversations with her, they were missing the way she felt against them. Her voice, her body, her warmth. All of it.

Blaise shrugged a little. "I don't know." A hint of genuine concern laced his Italian accent. " _Lei sarà qui presto_."

As soon as he said it, the portrait swung open and in stepped their princess, looking rather exhausted. She smiled at them and was immediately swept into two different embraces. Draco was the first to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around before setting her soundly on her feet. Their eyes twinkled with deep admiration and longing. Their moment was cut short by their lover. Blaise's greeting was entirely different.

His hand pushed her wild brown hair from her face as it formed to the curve of her cheek. Her head lifted up slightly and their lips met in an agonizingly sweet kiss. Draco watched as their lips moved together; Blaise's dominated hers. Sweeping his tongue along her bottom lip, he was given access to her sweet mouth. She opened up and shivered once his tongue swirled along the roof of her mouth and against her tongue.

Draco's eyes darkened at the open display of their love and attraction.

Blaise pulled away and rested his forehead against her. "Welcome back, Cara."

"Glad to be back." She shivered again, smiled, and met Draco's dark eyes. "Come here," Hermione ordered.

He willingly obliged, circled his arms around her and gave her a chaste kiss upon her lips.

"Payback is a real bitch, yes?" Blaise sniggered.

"You're just as certifiably in the wrong as I am, Zabini." He growled as he felt Hermione's lips press against his jaw. "She's only doing it because of me."

"So, you admit it." He folded his arms across his chest, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Draco chuckled darkly, ran his fingers across their symbols and silently celebrated the fact that he could make Blaise hot just as easily as Hermione could do to them.

They were hardly strangers to touch, and they weren't the only ones playing a dangerous game. They'd kept their mouths shut for the past month but their patience was coming to an end.

The Slytherins wanted to claim her. With love came the irrevocable commitment between soulmates. After they consummated their union, there was no going back. They would be connected to one another for the rest of their days. Either together or separate, they would share something that others could only dream of sharing.

After they finished greeting her, they seduced her to sit between them as they caught up. The hearth crackled with a warm fire, the sun was setting in the distance and there was an easiness that hadn't been there for days. The atmosphere was peaceful, serene. The only sounds that filled the room were the sizzle of the fire and the soft banter between them.

"So, Blaise tells me you have something planned for the Yule Party," Hermione started, a smile forming on her lips.

Draco turned to the dark haired Slytherin and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly did he say I was planning?

Blaise chuckled. "Come on. Don't be bashful."

"One cannot be bashful if they do not know what they should be shy about, Blaise."

This caused a rapturous laugh to erupt from deep in his chest. "Alright, alright. Salazar, you're worse than Granger." He smirked at Draco before turning his attention to Hermione. "We're planning a very special night for us, love. One… we hope that will solidify our relationship."

"Solidify?" The word made a shiver course through her.

Hermione had fantasies about them. Fantasies that involved some very risqué images of her being taken repeatedly by both of them. Even while she dreamed, she could feel their hands explore her body, pull at her hair with urgency as they both claimed her again and again. These dreams always left her breathless and more heated than she had ever thought possible. It was true that she was a virgin, but she was also a healthy teenager. Most people her age could admit to submitting to some sort of natural release. Even a prude like her had done it, and from what her boys told her, she was sinfully intoxicating. Having never physically tasted any part of her other than her lips, they couldn't get enough of their explorations. As nervous as she was to lose her virginity to them, Hermione wanted to consummate their relationship.

"As much as I love your delicious thoughts, Cara, I have to say that you're getting ahead of yourself. We want that night to be special and not some quick shag between the three of us. You must understand what we're asking of you and what will ultimately come of it."

She sat back and waited for them to proceed.

* * *

A/N: I must apologize for the late update. I know y'all are probably sick of hearing my excuses, but RL does happen. And, quite frequently, I must put publishing chapters on hold. This chapter is unbeta'd. My beta is in her final year of college. Bless her heart for putting up with my mistakes, school, and a job. I truly appreciate her putting time aside to edit my chapters.

Anyway, next chapter you'll find out what had caused Draco's thoughts to stir the wrong way, what he supposedly found, and what it means to consummate a relationship between three people. Ginny will make an appearance before the Yule Party and I hope y'all don't hate me too much for what she does. Just remember, Draco, Hermione and Blaise end up together and what is a relationship without a little hardship?

 **Warning:** Mild mature content next chapter. Especially chapter 8-9. Only a couple more chapters left, so stay tuned.

Thank you!


	8. 8

Hello. I'm sure you weren't expecting such a fast update. Even if it is not fully beta'd and there are probably countless errors, I wanted to publish it today. I will look over it tomorrow morning.

NEWS NEWS NEWS: I am getting a kitty tomorrow :) So, forgive me if that edited chapter doesn't come until late tomorrow night. I was just too tired to look over it, but I assure you I will look over it first thing tomorrow. If anyone is interested, I will post kitty pictures in Tumblr when we get her ^-^. Before that, I have two pictures that go with this chapter. You'll know when you get there. Feel free to check them out as well.

And, yes! I am feeling better. I still have some weird nose thing going on but at least it's better than it has been at the beginning of the month. :)

Several things happen this chapter and I hope you aren't disappointed. There are several things that need to happen and if things go smoothly tomorrow, I will be able to get a head start on chapter eight.

Also, I would love to hear your theories at the very end of the second scene. You'll know (Wiggles eyebrows)

We are looking at possibly 8 more chapters. Most likely 8-9 since the Yule Party has yet to happen and there is still so much to uncover.

If anyone is interested, a beta position for Veritas Lux Mea has opened up on the account that I really, really need one. Along with that, I will be starting up an old story back from late last year. Salutem had to be postponed due to the fast I started it during a very stressful/busy. It is a Dark Tomione (AU) and seeing that I had some sort of enlightenment earlier this week, I'm feeling rather excited about starting it up again.

Thanks a lot, guys.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Head's Room_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Friday January thirteenth, 1996**

Hermione could feel the heavy gazes of her lovers as they exchanged contemptuous looks. It was not the act of coming together that mocked their sensibilities, but the possibility that once joined it could ruin them forever. Chances were, it could happen. Even if they tried with all their might to prevent this inevitable collision ordained by Aphrodite, if it could not exist in the present world, then it simply would not survive. It was a long time ago that they accepted this horrible fate if it ever came to pass. However, they were without hope.

"You need to understand what it means to be completely ours, Hermione." Blaise proceeded with caution. This was new information, given the fact that they had years to prepare themselves verses the handful of weeks that she was allotted. She was a quick learner. They could award her with that victory, but they needed her to fully understand and digest what they were about to tell her.

Being theirs was not a simple title given to their lover, but a brand in which all others acknowledge. It was a merciless fact that not everyone would agree with her decision to take two lovers, no matter how much they wished. To have even one person in support of their union was a gift of its own and they could happily say that had the approval of several of the members of their House and family that they would gladly extend to Hermione if her own friends turned and did not accept her decision. Only to be born into a cruel world and be torn apart by those she thought who loved her was a damned thing to watch. They vowed to protect her from anything that came between them and the love that had grown from the fruit of their connections. Oh, but to be young and naïve. Hermione truly was revered for not noticing the duplicity of life. A trait such as that could eventually become her downfall.

Blaise took the first initiative, seeing that his companion couldn't find his bearings or nerves to present the information. He had always been the more articulate one, fluent in all sort of sorcery and words. From growing away from the reclusiveness of his upbringing, Blaise conjured the courage to address Hermione.

"Being ours, as untraditional as it is both in the Muggle and Wizarding World, comes with costs."

"What kind of costs?" Hermione asked, her voice weak but her mind strong. She wanted to know, wanted to understand what could possibly come of their union if they chose to go any farther. "What will happen?"

"We'll be looked down upon, Hermione." Blaise gulped, trying to steady himself. How could he possibly tell her about the societal strains of a relationship like theirs? "We'll be mocked for believing that a love like ours could exist outside two individuals. That, mind you, love could be extended equally through more than two partners. History has a funny way of repeating itself and I'll be damned to see it happen to you or Draco. I wouldn't be able to stand seeing anyone mistreat either of you, let alone tossing their heads in the opposite direction and abandoning you. I wouldn't be able to take it."

"If it's happened before, then why haven't people grown to accept it?"

"It's just like any other topic of interest nowadays: gay or bisexual individuals and the ecological bastards that can't open their minds to anything other than the respective norm. Trust me, Hermione. Our predicament isn't anything new. It's just another thing for those around us to find fault in whilst preaching and forcing their beliefs onto others. It is people who ground themselves firmly with the nature order of the universe that make people in our predicament or other predicaments lose themselves. They start believing that there is something wrong with them, thus preventing their true selves to come into the light. It makes it very difficult to present ourselves how we want, let alone live without having to worry what's around the corner."

If Blaise was angry, his facial expressions didn't show it but it words did. They provided Hermione with more than enough information to base her next questions on. Granted, what individuals today were going through was nothing compared to what people had gone through in the past. People were ridiculed, bullied, tortured for believing the things they did. However, this was not a situation of wanting to marry a same sex lover or start a revolutionary movement. It was about what it was going to mean for them to consummate their relationship and come forth as a couple.

She never really thought about it until now. Usually, she would push it to the back of her mind and let it fester but she couldn't ignore it any longer.

Hermione knew that it would be a struggle for her friends to accept what she had with her Slytherin Princes. Harry treaded carefully around Draco's presence and Ron was never really was fond of him, either. Both despised Draco and Blaise within reasonable sense. Although they never truly expressed their deep loath for the Slytherins, she knew it was there somewhere.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked nervously, envisioning telling her closest friends about their relationship. "What are people going to say, what will they-"

She was sufficiently silenced with a hard kiss. Out of shock, she opened her mouth slightly, brought her arms to push against the flash of dark eyes in front of her but was unable to push him back. Blaise pushed up against her as a hard chest came flush with her back. Gasping, she felt pale arms wrap around her midriff as Draco's nose nuzzled her neck. She shuddered involuntarily. How many times had she dreamt about being held between the two of them in a primal act of dominance? To have two equally handsome and sexy Slytherins to ink her skin with the ignition akin to sparks and fire? Gods, if she didn't find control now, there was no telling where this conversation meant to inform her would lead.

Sensing her dismay, they pulled back but only by an inch. Blaise stared into her eyes while Draco played with the curve of her waist. His position made it difficult to remain still and not respond to his rapacious need to explore her.

She sighed a little when Draco removed himself. "You needn't worry about them, Princess. Blaise and I have long since came to the decision that we don't give a rat's arse about what others may think but we know you don't feel the same way. Regardless, we'll be there to protect you." He leaned in and traced his lips against her neck and exhaled sharply. "So divine. So lovely and perfect. Anyone fool could see how superb you are, but it takes a true aesthete to see you for who you are."

Hermione was deeply humbled by his words. As she stifled yet another unflattering moan, Blaise tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes.

She gasped at the darkened hue of his irises. From complete lust or just being in her proximity, she didn't know but it didn't escape her in the slightest. She knew that look. The athanasy of his longing was matched by the flaming of their symbols. To understand the depth of their love for her was not embedded in the simple pleasantries that came forth from the words they whispered to her, but the ancient treasury of their fates. So quick to formulize an understanding, Hermione's mind began to work in overdrive.

"When we finally come together, we won't just share a mutual understanding of each other's minds and bodies." Blaise told her, placing his hands on her hips where Draco was already touching. "Our magic will intertwine; our bodies will become one, and our minds will mold together. We won't be three individuals anymore, but an equal extension of one another. However, there is a problem with that. Can you tell me what that might be?"

She struggled to think as their hands fought over the plains of her hips. Draco's lips met the curve of her shoulder and warm, gentle breeze hit the back of her neck. Hermione arched into him just as Blaise growled softly and trailed a teasing line from her hipbone to her clavicle. The more they touched her, the more her thoughts were scrambled. She could only focus on the sinful decadence of their hands as they explored her for the first time. The nature of their exploration paved way to what they were thinking. They had waited years for this moment. Even if their mouths did not give that away, their minds and hands did. Her symbol burned with only longing of her own but ravenousness. As much as she loved to feel their hands on her, Hermione had other priorities to attend to. Sensing the signal, they pulled away but kept a close distance.

"Have you figured it out?"

She nodded, her mind clearer than it had been a moment ago. "I remember reading it in one of our old textbooks. We all need to be open with one another and want it just as much as the other."

"And, we do want it, Cara." Blaise's voice suggested more than he wanted to let on. "What else is there my brilliant witch?"

"We had no problem finding each other in our last reincarnation."

"Yes," his voice was strained with years of agony," in all our other reincarnations we were able to find one another. Unfortunately, it took us a bit longer to find each other in this lifetime because we were uncertain that you would accept us."

"Why would I ever reject you?" she questioned, her eyebrow kitting together in genuine confusion. "If you had told me years ago, then-"

"It isn't about telling you, Princess." Draco said behind her, drawing languid circles around her wrist. "We feared you wouldn't have been compliant to our wishes. That you didn't have our symbol."

"Soulmates can be born without a symbol?"

"Yes, which makes it all the harder to convince the heart and soul of the love that was once shared. We found out some time after realizing our connection with you that you indeed shared our symbol." Blaise brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Even without the knowledge of your acceptance, it felt like your soul had finally found ours."

Hermione's breathing hitched a little at the realization. If she hadn't shared their symbol, it would have made the journey of finding her harder for them. How long would have they searched? Would they have found her early enough to establish a relationship and connection with her? Just thinking about not finding them made her heart ache with the intensity of a thousand knives. One by one, those knives delved into the tough tissue of her heart, piercing it with ease. The knives did not pierce the same spot, either. She was horrified by the fact that she came that close to not finding them. It was an intaglio that she did not want.

"What made you wait so long?" She wanted to know why they decided it would be best to wait until just this year to come to her.

"We had to make sure." Draco's voice was singed with anxiety and fear not lost to either of them. "It's one thing to feel our supposed soulmate and discover that they carry the same symbol. We wanted to make absolutely sure that we had found ours."

"What did you do?"

"We went to Snape." Blaise pulled back. "He knew more about soulmates than we did. He proven to be more of an asset than we could have possibly hoped for. He was the reason we were able to confirm that you were ours in the first place."

Draco pushed back her hair and kissed her neck once more. "I realized it before Blaise, so it was easier to confirm that you were indeed mine. Unfortunately, it took longer for Blaise to learn that you were his as well."

Hermione was spinning from all the excitement and information. She already knew that Draco had realized that she was his soulmate when she punched him out of a fit of rage. He deserved it at the time. It was brilliantly strange to think that if she hadn't struck him the way she did, Draco may never had realized his connection to her. Her question now was when did Blaise come to realize his?

"You said that you realized I was your soulmate after I punched you." She directed her statement toward Draco. "When did Blaise realize?"

"Not after, Princess. During," he corrected with great dawning.

She rolled her eyes. "Not what I asked."

"Yule Ball," came the answer in the most surprising of ways. Hermione turned to find Blaise staring straight at her, his eyes never one wavering from hers. "I remember the precise moment as if it happened just last night. You were standing at the top of the last flight of stairs. Your hair was charmed to perfection and even though it was pinned gracefully to the side of your head in elegant swirls that touched just below your breasts, your dress was the lightest shade of pink I have ever seen, and you were struggling slightly to keep yourself from falling in those damned heels, I had never seen such a magnificently beautiful sight. You were simply _heavenly_."

Hermione remembered that night in exactly the opposite way. From using a handful of charms just to force her hair to lie as elegantly as Blaise had described to practicing walking in heels for months just so that evening wouldn't leave her incapable of walking right. The entire evening had been a disaster because she hadn't been asked by anyone and had to go with one of her best friends. Ron had completely ignored the countless hours she put into preparing herself. Something about putting on a dress and showcasing that she was indeed a girl didn't spark anything remotely close to what she had hoped for. That was the first and last time she did anything to impress a boy and it was a lesson she would soon not forget.

Even though she was not the one looking upon her celestial form, she felt as if she knew exactly what he meant. In the first time in years she felt gorgeous, boys were paying attention to her and she wasn't being challenged by anyone. All in all, she had a wonderful time despite her date acting totally oblivious

"I wasn't the only one who noticed, Cara." Blaise continued without her realizing that he had been engaging her reaction to his confession. "If I recall, Weasley hadn't been too comfortable seeing his date being slowly unclothed by all the male attendees. So much so that he went and… never mind."

She didn't want to hear about what Ron had done after leaving her side so early in the evening. From the reports, what he did wasn't all that thrilling or praise worthy. She spent a majority of her time hanging out with Harry and making sure no one spiked her fruit punch to care. Again, not a disastrous evening but she wished that someone had acknowledged the fact that she was a girl and deserved to be treated as such, or at the very least asked her to dance.

"Yes, I remember," growled Draco harshly. "Every set of eyes were on you and I could have sworn a wave of hormones swept over the entire ballroom." He cursed before uttering 'disgusting' under his breath but he made it a clear point that he had not been thinking with anything other than his brain, he brought his lips to the back of her ear and whispered," Everything hung in the air the second my eyes landed on you, Princess. Dear fucking Merlin, you were so beautiful. I wanted to take you."

Hermione gasped salaciously at his confession. She cared not of what Ron had done but knowing that she was the reason behind their sweet torture sparked something unsuspected inside her.

A lambent scene opened in front of her. The image bloomed from a long forgotten dream. She had danced with someone, but up until now she wasn't able to place a name to the mysterious man who swept her off her feet and seduced her into a small, capriccio dance of the ages. Their connection had been very brief, if not unsatisfactory. With every sway of his body, the yearning to remain close overwhelmed her. Before she knew it, their dance and time together was over and he had to flee. She never knew who that man was until now.

"Y-you asked me to dance…" her eyes lit up with the realization.

"Yes, Cara. I danced with you." Blaise confirmed with a smile. "If the moment I saw you ascend from the heavens didn't tell me you were mine then it was feeling the way your soul flared against mine that told me. In that instant I knew that you belonged to me."

"H-how?" she demanded. "How is it possible from a simple brush of your fingers or the harsh welcome of my knuckles?"

"It's different for everyone." Draco told her, an obvious hint of fondness hidden in his words. Being punched by the girl that easily managed to best him at everything did more than just establish a connection with her. Admiration had come forth, for one. As well as a few other things. "Our realization came forth the same way it arrives for everyone else. It was unexpected, but with the confirmation of our connection we were able to take our fate from there."

"Then, how did I realize it?"

There seemed to be a mutual scape of hesitation between them until Draco finally answered her question.

"Your connection awoke not as a full unit. Meaning, it took some time for your soul to register us as yours. I was first, as you already know. For some reason it took you a little longer to accept Blaise."

Hermione looked at him sympathetically as if it was her fault that her soul didn't accept him. It was her fault but it wasn't like she did it deliberately.

She reached up and placed a small hand on his cheek. He leaned in the touch and sighed just as Draco came around and placed a hand on his forearm.

"Although it took a bit more time, I'm glad it still happened."

"As am I, Cara." Blaise kissed the palm of her hand before bringing Draco's up to his lips to bestow the same gesture to it as well. "We both are."

"Do you know why it took so long?" she asked suddenly. "I mean, if you two realized it within a year or so of each other's, then why did it take me an additional two or three to realize it?"

"We weren't as connected as we have been in the past." Draco elaborated on the reasoning behind the delay. "Evidently, we're closer than we are now. Acquaintances of sorts, if you will."

"That's what we were. Acquaintances, I mean."

"No, Princess." Draco shook his head, pressing himself a bit more firmly against her back to establish some sort of control. "That's not what we were. If you remember correctly, we used to loath each other. You had no formal connection with Blaise and whatever connection you had with me was tainted by years or torment and childish teasing. Although, it was my way of showing that I liked you." he chuckled.

Hermione smirked a little. "Must be a Slytherin thing, yes?"

"To tease the hell out of our crushes?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Us Slytherins just _love_ to torment the ones we like."

She let out a giggle as Blaise suppressed his laughter. He found the banter between them very entertaining but the joy soon died down.

"If we were at least friends in our past lives, then that means it must have threatened this lifetime's chances of finding each other."

"Precisely," breathed Blaise.

"You see, our past lives grow up in different eras and times. Our previous one, from what we've learned, wasn't marked by silly prejudice or supremacy. In fact, we were all Muggles during our last reincarnations. That may have been a small factor why we were able to find each other. We weren't clouded by any righteousness of the Pureblood order or blood statues. We were just… ourselves."

She gasped. "We didn't have magic?"

Again, Blaise found her little outbursts rather amusing. "No, Cara. Not every lifetime is marked by magic. That gift it bestowed upon souls that can wield it properly. We don't get it every time. It's a rarity that one becomes a witch or wizard in two consecutive lifetimes, among other things."

"What about our other pasts?" she asked, wanting to know more about the two men on either side of her. What had they been like during the first World War, or during the Renascence? A part of her wanted to everything about all their lives. Another part of her disagreed. "Did we have magic then? Were we as close as we are now?"

Why try to find out what they were like during those lifetimes when you have them for this? What better way to strengthen your connection that to get know them as they are now?

It was as strange as it was true. Why should all those past lives matter when she had them for this one? As fundamentally interesting as it was, Hermione couldn't bring herself to relive something that she already experienced. Even if she had done it a thousand times, it's in this lifetime that made it all the more special. She was going to relive it, but it a different and more unique way. It wasn't like she didn't care about their past lives. This one just matter more and she knew that she was right because she felt as if she had already confined in herself that it was true. She needn't worry about anything but the present moment.

"Yes and no." challenged Draco. "It what Fate decides, really."

"If what you are saying is true then Fate decided for us to be so separated?" She didn't like the thought at all. "Why would it be so?"

"Not every lifetime is meant to be a without trials. Some struggles more than others; some lose themselves while others thrive. No one really knows for sure, but that's what they choose to believe."

After a moment of silence between the three, Hermione spoke.

"They matter not." she concluded. "I have both of you know as well as the chance to get to know you all over again. Not many people get that, do they?"

"No, they do not." Draco growled lowly.

No predatory growl and unexpected surge of dominance came forth from Blaise's lips. His eyes- Gods, his eyes- they could tell everything she needed to know about what he was thinking.

Draco kissed her neck before pulling away. Blaise followed suit, but reached out to guide her to the couch so they could all convene together. Standing in such a compromising position had taken its toll on all three of them and they didn't want to stretch their sense of self-control. That would be tested another night. For now, the Slytherins wanted to quench their thirsty Princess and sooth her woes. It was a lot of information to take it, but at least they were able to provide her with something to mull over. In time, perhaps they will give her a glimpse into a few of their past lives.

"Our past reincarnations are interesting, but they don't define us as we are now." Draco told her as she sat between them and placed a hand on his knee. Blaise scooted closer and toyed with a stray piece of thread on her skirt, staying relatively far from her most intimate treasures. As conniving as they were chauvinistic, they were also respectful. "We'll show you in time. First, we need you to consent to a few things."

"What do I need to consent to?"

"Their more like vows." Blaise offered, raising his head up to meet their eyes. "Between soulmates like us, they individuals come up with vows and share them among the group. In our case, they can either be directed to one or both partners. You can promise your lover anything that you wish but you must be positively certain that you'll be able to uphold that vow."

"Alright and if I am not able to uphold it, what happens?" she didn't want to vow anything that would result in them being separate, or worse, killed. For some strange reason, Hermione that a broken vow would be the end of everything that they held dear.

"You're certainly right to think that, Hermione." Blaise looked at her with a frown.

"How on earth-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "It's in your eyes, Cara. They give you away every time. Along with that, I've been able to ascertain what you're thinking for quite some time. We don't know much about it and we're not about to vow to you anything use we make sure we run it by Snape first."

"Has he vowed anything to someone before?" Hermione asked without thinking. The look on their faces were not of happiness but rather sadness. "Oh..."

"It's perfectly fine. Don't worry. It's just, he did vow to someone and well, they result wasn't very pretty. She was promised to him, of course. But, neither of them knew it at the time. Again, it's different for everyone. It can take months to years to find your soulmate and neither of them knew until after it was too late. Snape broke his vows and as a result he lost his soulmate."

Her heart went out to the old Potion's Master. In the past, she wouldn't have really cared about his personal life. In fact, she didn't believe that the older wizard even had a heart but she had been deathly mistaken. A love story as old as time, his was just among the unfortunate losses.

These vows were more difficult to understand than she initially thought. She was sure that she would be able to understand it, even if too some time. Draco nor Blaise looked like they wanted to discuss the topic any farther and she didn't want to push them to speak. Instead, she chose a different approach.

"These vows are really important, aren't they?"

They nodded almost in synchronization. "Yes, they are."

She gulped, quenching her throat of the soreness that built from nervousness. "And, if they're broken, there is no turning back, yes?"

Again, they nodded."

"They'll be torn apart during their current lifetime?"

This sparked a revolutionary emotion in both of them. Instead of answering directly, Blaise chose to speak for the two of them.

 _Not just one lifetime, Hermione. For the remainder all their time._

He did not elaborate. Instead, Blaise pulled her back and let her rest her head against his chest. With a sigh, she felt Draco move behind them. The couch in which they lied grew exceptionally bigger, giving them more than enough room to lie and enjoy each other's company.

A few minutes passed between them blissfully until Draco broke the silence.

"Trelawney may be an old coot, but the ideas themselves aren't completely off." Draco murmured.

Blaise looked over Hermione shoulders and regarded the fair-haired Slytherin coolly. "And, what may I ask, did you do Draco?"

He held the gaze perfectly. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything. I just pushed her in the right direction." Draco's gaze was directed to Hermione.

A grin slowly formed on his lips. "Seems to me that you gave her more than just _a push in the right direction_. Without your guidance, she wouldn't have even thought to look in her old textbook. You didn't keep it for light reading did you, Cara?"

Hermione giggled but shook her head. True, if she hadn't kept the book or remembered where she saw the symbols, she wouldn't have had anything to base her research on. Thank goodness she didn't have to start from square one.

"Think whatever you want, Zabini." Draco drawled, tightening his grip on Hermione.

Blaise turned his attention back to their witch. A smile formed instantly. "Forgive me, Cara. It seems like Draco is attention deprived."

She couldn't help let out a small giggle as Draco continued to pay small homage to her neck. "He is, in fact, deprived."

"If you two would stop snogging each other sens-"

Hermione stood astonished as Blaise moved swiftly. With incredibly alacrity, he was able to capture Draco's lips and wrap his free arm around his waist. A deep groan sounded from both of their throats as they lost themselves to each other. Blaise dropped his hand from Hermione, who immediately pulled back to watch him cup Draco's cheek and press the front of his body against his. Caught in ardent lust, the two Slytherin Princes moved their hands across the plains of each other's bodies, pressed themselves more firmly against one another while they became enraptured by their love. Just as Hermione thought she couldn't take any more, they broke away, panting heavily.

Light cerulean eyed met the storm of darkness. She never seen a more smothering sight in all her life.

"Have I made it up to you?"

" _Yes_ ," Draco narrowed his eyes slightly," very much so."

Blaise leaned forward and licked the corner of his mouth before moving to murmur something in his ear. As he did, his eyes grew dark, mimicking the same hue that did not escape Hermione's acknowledgement.

"Oh, how right you are, Blaise. She is a teasing little minx, isn't she?"

"What is he saying about me?" Hermione demanded, looking between the two as Blaise chuckled. Draco came around and was the first to stake his claim on her. The second his lips made contact with hers she was under their mercy.

"He suggested that you have been rather naughty these past few weeks. Unfortunately, it surpassed me." He brought his lips to the back of her ear. "What naughty things have you been doing, Hermione?"

She shivered with his suggestive treachery. How _dare_ he even insinuate that she even did anything like that! Sure, some times she would be seduced by her own need for pleasure. Late at night, she used to cast silencing charms around her bed and pleasure herself to the wild romantic fantasies of her heart and mind. It wasn't something she did every night, only when things grew to a horrid crescendo was when she relieved herself of the built up desire. Even the thought of them knowing that she did in fact explored herself caused a jolt to go through her.

Suddenly, a hand came in contact with her hip. Nothing else came from this contact but she knew that the simple gesture was more than enough for them to take.

"We won't go any farther than this, love." Draco promised. "We just wanted to show you that you have the same affect that we have on you."

"T-that kiss, though." Her lips tingled from something she couldn't place. "I-I felt it."

"Of course you did." He grinned. "Just as I felt your kiss with Blaise and vice versa. However, it's just now that you're beginning to feel those things. Soon, we hope, we'll be fully connected and we'll be able to share everything with you."

Blaise smiled at her. "We'll wait as long as you want, Cara. We're not in a rush."

"Just don't make us wait too long, though." Draco murmured into the juncture of her neck. "You're irresistible and if you continued those late night rendezvous with your body then we might have to reevaluate other ways to get you back."

"If you can feel w-when… when I…" she blushed furiously at the thought of them touching themselves in the seclusion of their chambers. "Will I be able to feel you?"

A sly grin appeared on both of the Slytherin's faces. "Only the beginning."

"If I were you, I'd stop altogether." Blaise warned with a playful gleam in his eyes. "When you're ensnared by snakes, you don't always get a fair chance. We don't take too kindly to teasing, either. But, by all means, go ahead with your foolishness, though. Revenge has always been the sweetest form of punishment."

"Mark our words, Princess. When we finally make you ours, there is no going back."

Hermione took a minute to think it over. She wanted nothing more than for them to join together. However, there was something more than just sharing an enchanted night of passion and love. The necessary vows had to be spoken before either of them could think about tasting each other's flesh. A vow… she had no idea how to go about it but confined in herself that she would do everything in her power to make sure that their vows were upheld, even if meant going to Snape for answers.

She wanted to proceed with caution, but how could she do that when she was falling more in love with both of them as the days passed? Blaise had somehow gifted her with reestablishing his standing with her and even though there were no quarrels between her and Draco, he found a way to plant firm belief in her as well. They were truly wonderful on their own. Together, they were astoundingly magnificent.

Without so much as a thought, Hermione swung her leg over the first Slytherin, leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips. She poured everything that she was and hoped to be into that kiss. Two sets of large hands gripped her and for a split second, she was lost in the entanglement of limbs and lips. Hermione shared in the festivities of kissing until she couldn't decipher who she was touching and who was touching her. All three were lost in each other and themselves.

"I love you," she told them, trailing a gentle finger against Blaise's cheek as well as Draco's. She had pinned him against the couch in a fit of lustful haze. With no desire to move from her spot, she angled her head and planted on last soft kiss to his lops. "Have I made up for all these weeks of sweet torment."

"More than made him," he hissed, adjusting himself a little.

Hermione could feel his need pressed up against her. Without meaning to, she wiggled about on top of him only to be forcefully stopped.

"Do that one more time and I might have to change my mind about waiting until you're ready, Princess. A man can only take so much torment, as you say and I've reached my limit."

"How long ago was that?"

"When you decided to have explore yourself without us," his chastised her for all those late nights of, as he put it, exploring herself.

She had half a mind to see if he would be able to live up to that threat when a dark hand came to cup her cheeks.

Blaise moved slowly towards her and tasted from the sweetness of her lips, this time take the great pleasure of memorizing the shape of her pink lips to the soft moans that escaped from the back of her throat. It didn't help that Draco was rubbing her sides in languid motions.

"Yes," Blaise agreed as he broke the kiss. "We wouldn't want to test him, would we Hermione?"

She shook her head. "No," she agreed. "He's been tested enough this past month. Let's be generous and grant his wish of restraining ourselves."

"Sounds like a pleasant gesture." Draco smirked at their agreement. "I'm humbled that you granted my request."

"Anything for you, my prince." Hermione splayed her fingers across his chest.

He looked straight into her eyes and said, "And, anything for you our princess."

* * *

Draco knew that Hermione was fast asleep not because of the soft mumbling coming from her chambers but from the deep relaxing coloration of his symbol. Blaise remained in the Head's room until his calling to return to the dungeons stripped him from his embrace.

He stood just as Blaise was about to leave the Common Room.

"You'll talk to him tomorrow, won't you?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I'll tell him what we discussed with Hermione." As entertaining and informative as the conversation was, there were things that still needed attending to. First, his theory about Weasley and her own connection. He discussed it briefly with Blaise but didn't have the chance to go into depth with his theory until the silence between them became almost terminal prior to Hermione's arrival earlier that evening.

They both turned and stared at Hermione's chambers. As much as they would like to believe that there wasn't nothing in the world that could harm her, they needed to be careful and be prepared. Anything could happen and if they didn't tread with absolute caution and vigilance, they would lose her.

"I hope your theory is right, Draco. For Hermione's sake."

"It's all hypothetical, Blaise. There isn't even a slightest chance that she-"

"It's all that we have to go on, yeah?" Blaise's tone turned deadly serious. "Do you realize that we can't fully convene together and bestow our vows until we figure out what's causing her to become sick."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "I thought we already established that it was because he found fault in your feelings towards her. Even Snape agreed that you needed to tell her."

"That's not my point." he hissed. "You weren't standing in front of her when we spoke of our past lives. If you truly think that the eyes are the gateway to the soul, then you should have taken my position in front of her. It was as if I was reliving one of our reincarnations."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm say, there is definitely more than this soulmate business that either we have been overlooking or Snape hasn't told us."

"Snape wouldn't lie to us, Blaise. He had a soulmate and-"

"Yes, _had_." He emphasized the word. "There is something you failed to tell her as well. Snape didn't just have one soulmate. He had two. Potter's mom and some other man that unfortunately died before he could claim him. Even if one of his soulmates didn't accept him, he could have turned to the other for comfort and love."

"Are you saying that we could lose her?" he finally asked. "Hermione isn't going to die, Blaise. We've established what caused her illness and if you think that there is more to it, then by all means speak to Snape. I'm done discussing something that has not affect her since last month."

"Oh, but how wrong you are." said Blaise, his tone lowering with each uttered word. "Snape said if someone is in doubt, it'll most likely affect the other two."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that it would be best to find where your loyalties and heart lie. Until then, don't speak to me. She won't be the only one you hurt if you choose to turn your back on us, you know."

With that, Blaise left for the fair-haired Slytherin to think over his words. Once they settled, he turned to the closes portrait and sending a fleeting, unseen look.

With a quiet, unheard sob he said, "I promise to find out where it lies. For you and Hermione."

It was a promise he was more than willing to keep.


	9. 9

**_A/N down below._**

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Eight_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Saturday December fourteenth, 1996**

Blaise became carried away by his thoughts as he navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts. Far from the sentimental calmness that prevailed in his lover, he found solace in the fact that he could not understand, much less begin to comprehend Draco's drastic statements about their witch. They saw her illness in two different lights; one in the negative aspect and the other in the positive. He firmly believed that she was getting better and that the illness showed no signs of returning. Why should it when he did the very thing Snape had asked him to do? He expressed his love. Shouldn't that be the only thing that mattered?

Apparently not. One the other hand, Draco's growing fear of it returning drew to some starling conclusions. Deep in his heart, he felt that Hermione was going to turn for the worse. Draco still believed that there was still more to the illness that met the eye. Somehow, his heart was telling him they have either been lied to, or withheld information. What he couldn't figure out was why. _Why_ would Snape withhold valuable information when he himself went through the same thing so many years ago? As ancient as soulmates were, there was a thing to be learned from the past.

If Draco wanted to go to him and further investigate his theories, then he was not going to stop him. Who was he to prevent him from securing some sense of stability? Sure, as bizarre as it was, he did make a good point.

He, too, had his suspicions about Weasley.

As he walked, he found that his thoughts were betraying him.

How was it possible for her to be so astute, so intricately connected with them? For someone to wield such spiteful woes when they have only just begun to live their life? Weasley was not known by her beautiful looks, but by the wake of broken hearts from the years of vengeful servitude. As cunning as she was artful, Ginny was the epitome of someone who's been wronged too many times.

Draco wasn't wrong to assume the unthinkable; there was something oddly strange and uniquely different about Ginny. Having dated her in the past, Blaise could easily agree that she was no ordinary witch. Despite the so called purity of her blood, there was a nastier bond at play. For Hermione's sake as well as Draco's, Blaise vowed to get the bottom of her involvement. If anything, he thought fleetingly, her illness could somehow be influenced by Ginny and before the witch did anything else to tear them apart, he needed to secure a couple of things before he acted.

His first priority was to make Draco see that his heart was in the right place.

Then, he would seek out the witch that had the nerve to touch the one that he loved.

* * *

Calloused eyes gazed upon the glistening waters of the reflective surface. Hands as papery white as the ghosts of time were clenched painfully at the sides of the sink. A reoccurring urge to lean over and vomit became overwhelming, so much so that the smallest of movements struck him with a sudden illness that he could not place. There was an underlying reason to this madness, but alas, he could not find the solution to his misery. The man stood straight, rocking back and forth and was momentarily swept by the sickness that he's felt so many times in the past. It came as fast as it went: defiantly slow. He could not remember the first time it began, nor will he be able to measure how long he'd have to live with it. With the illness that plagued his lover and will continue to plague him until the end of his days, he was destined to misery.

Grabbing the wall for purchase, he staggered away from the sink and slowly out the door. A nice cup of Firewhiskey sounded sublime. It always soothed the growing sickness that swelled inside him like some remorseful reminder of what he had done. Not that he needed the illness to remind him. He had to live with himself and what he had done so many years ago.

He stepped into the foyer and made an immediate left and entered a quaint little room. From there, he ventured over to the corner of the room, grabbed the first glass he found and poured himself some alcohol. Once he had consumed a healthy taking of alcohol, he stumbled over to the hearth. There he stood for quite some time, his eyes never once leaving the embers.

He stood just on the banks of the glowing light. His eyes remained fixated on something he could not comprehend. No matter how long he stared, no matter how long the light gathered around him, he could not stop himself from gazing into the flames that was once his own heart. He became hypnotized by the caliginous flames of the hearth. Why did he continuously try to awaken these memories when his damn mind and body would not allow it, he wondered to himself. His gaze remained transparently fixed on the flickering gaze of the embers. The warmth dispersed the coldness of his chamber but did little to thaw his aching heart. Clouded by so many years of guilt that continued to eat away at his very being, he took to the late night to relinquish some of the built up regret. For twenty years, he's spent most of his nights, in spite of himself, in a reminiscent sorrow.

It was only during the primordial hours of the day that he found salvation. A refreshing time that provided the spiritual cleanse that he needed was marred by the horrid memories of his past. His thoughts were abundantly clear; his heart was not tainted with unwanted loyalties. This was only time that he could breath, but it was also a time that he was at his weakest. Not wanting to dwell on such matters when the time was night in its prime, he turned away from the hearth and circled the room one last time, his robes billowing in the unspoken wind.

The Clock Tower chimed distantly, but his mind was far from the workings of time to care. From the number of gentle chimes, he concluded that it was nearing 2 A.M. A warning of the coming hour he guessed. Though, he couldn't exactly understand why it occurred. Wouldn't it be best to have disaster come unexpectedly than know when it was going to happen? He couldn't let go of this crippling fear that something was wrong. It came not from the secrets of the corridors so late at night, but from his experiences. He knew that there was something wrong but couldn't pinpoint exactly what was causing such a thought to occur. Even if it did turn out to be nothing, he couldn't take a chance.

Severus has grown accustomed to the callings of the night so much so that sleep was a notoriously hilarious notion to him. As his nerves calmed down, his mind raced with uncertainty. Hadn't he not been so repulsively broken and damaged with his own anxieties and mistakes he would have felt the disconnection before. Like previous times in the past, it was happening again.

Everything over the last several weeks he had chosen to ignore the signs. But, it was hard to do so when it literally bombarded him at every turn. Severus knew that there was something he had been overlooking and for the sake of saving yet another couple from the wrath of the Goddess of Love, he was going to find out what that something was.

Perhaps, he thought with the dimness that was his conscious, helping them would bring salvation. Maybe helping those less fortunate and youthful in their own understanding and connections would lessen the time he would have in the depths of purgatory.

Severus was fearful of what may befall him if he delved back into the past, but he was even more fearful of what would come of it if he chose not to partake in the investigation. He needed to seek answers. A part of him knew that it was the right thing to do while the other part screamed for him to stop and turn back. Only one thought pushed him forward.

It was twenty years to the day when he lost the love of his life. He remembered it so vividly, so clearly that sometimes his memories got the best of him. He questioned reality more and more with each year. With each passing year, the memories became progressively worse. He took it upon himself to seal some of the more haunting memories in individual phials. And, it wasn't just those either that were causing the transgressive partings of his soul.

The heartache was the most painful.

If not the heartache, it's the remembrance that makes people lose themselves. He could not allow that to happen; he needed to break this curse on Soulmates of Three.

In the corner of his chambers sat the blasted thing that caused him much of is agony. In his hands was a single phial. The silvery essence that provided a gateway to memories glistened hauntingly in the light of the fire. His black eyes narrowed on the menacing waters of his past as he gripped the phial more securely in his palm.

He wanted answers. Not just to provide himself with the freedom of releasing himself of the hold of his mistakes, but to help those who could learn from the past. Severus made mistakes; so many in fact that he did not believe that he would able to atone for a single one until he found peace with himself. He may be a Half-Blood wizard with a penchant for the Dark Arts, something he so desperately wanted to repent for.

It wasn't only his heart he wanted to free. For the longest time, he's been harboring such effectively potent demons. From the discourse that was bred from the passion to exhale all that was love, Severus had become the vessel for the treacherous Goddess of Love herself. She found fondness in things that ought to be left for children. And, it was from this form of damnation that drove him to do the unthinkable.

Slowly, he walked over to the glowing waters. Before, he marveled at the waters. Now, he detested it. How could something so utterly beautiful be so deceptively evil? Oh, but it was the beauty of it all. From the ruinous waters lied a person's worst memories. From the memories came the mistakes of a damaged man.

"To dread in the past is like to regress to a time of grief."

Without a thought, he uncorked the phial, tipped it over the Pensieve, and tumbled into the lost sanctuary that was his heart and the road to the past.

* * *

 _ **Sunday November Twenty-Seventh, 1977**_

" _By the Gods," he rasped breathlessly as he watched him trail open-mouth kisses down his sternum and back up again. He hissed, surprised by the boldness of his lover as the kisses turned into savory flames upon his skin. The man leaned back, letting his lover bestow the tenderness that he has come to adore._

Severus let out a repressed shutter as he watched with lust-filled eyes whilst his lover maneuvered up his body and slithered back into his arms. The cold air came crashing down like icicles. He longed for these nights by the fire, when all the other Slytherins were dressed in their sheets in their warm beds while they lied down in front of the fireplace. For months, this is how their relationship seemed to work: hidden from the prying eyes of their house. Embarked by their own sensibilities, he and his companion were able to keep their couplings well hidden from not only their house but from the entire school as well. However, there was one small part of them that seemed to be missing.

His lover sensed it as well. Pulling up, his gorgeously deep blue eyes stared into his fathomless dark pupils. Glowing with concern, Severus leaned up and wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his nose into his neck.

"It'll be fine, Avery." he told him. As pathetically unsentimental as his words have come to mean to him, Severus found other ways to sooth him. Not with his words but through other necessary means that provoked more than just the flame of their souls.

The blue-eyed Slytherin looked down and gave him a wary smile. "Of course." He paused, his eyes flashing with unrestrained sadness. "Of course it'll be fine."

"Hey," he reached up and allowed his fingertips to graze the contours of his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Avery," he warned, his eyes narrowing on the instinctive marking on his chest. "I can tell when something is troubling you."

Avery cursed. Of course he would be able to sense it. The damn mark was burning wildly with confliction. He would be a fool not to heed the warning of their shared mark. "Bloody hell."

Severus suppressed the urge to chuckle at him. Even if he was a bit disoriented with embarrassment and resentment, the fact that he has always been able to sense had sparked some form of admiration for him. Avery was easily impressed; even the little things Severus did for him was taken completely to heart.

"Talk to me." he urged, rubbing himself against him as if to coax him to speak.

Avery held back a moan and looked down. "You will not tempt me to speak, Severus."

"Maybe I'm not tempting you to speak but perhaps some _other_ form of release. We both know you could go for either one."

He groaned. "Cease your movements, then. I'll talk."

Severus stopped moving and waited. It didn't take much for him to crack. Perhaps, he'll have to keep that in mind for next time.

Avery sighed once more, slid into his arms but kept his gaze from meeting his. "I'm worried about Evans."

His sudden confession almost caught him off guard. Why in bloody hell would he be concerned about the Gryffindor princess? Sure, he and Lily used to be close friends during their early school years but had a falling out not too long ago. It involved calling her that word in front of Malfoy and… she hadn't spoken to him since. He feared that she figured out what it meant. It would be best for him not to speak to her even if he wanted to. He had done enough and no matter how much their bodies screamed for their lover, neither of them had found the courage to approach her. They were fearful of rejection and ever since then they had committed themselves only to each other. But, would trying be that vainly unfulfilling?

Severus knew that Avery was attracted to Evans. More than just a physical want to be with her, he was spiritually attracted to her. He found even the tiniest of nuisances remarkably appealing; from the way her lips curled into a smirk to the way her eyes sparkled in the given light- he was entranced by her.

"Why do you say that?" he didn't mean for it to come out as cold as it did. Severus was just as worried as he was, but couldn't voice it as clearly as he was able to.

"She has been in best of health lately."

"Neither have you, Avery." He looked up and his eyes grew alarmingly sorrowful. "How are you feeling?"

"Pleasantly satisfied." His lips brushed against his and in an instant, Severus flipped them over. He hovered menacingly above him with a wicked grin on his face. Avery let out a howling laugh before settling down. He smiled up at him and whispered. "Better, much better if you must know."

"I must," he confirmed, tracing his cheek with his fingers. "However, we mustn't distract ourselves."

"But, you like being distracted."

"Yes, well, we're not in the middle of doing Potion's notes or studying for a mid-term."

Avery chuckled in agreement. "You're right." His hand moved to his chest as his eyes gleamed with mischief. Severus took that into immediate account. "Even if we were, it would have been much easier for you to submit to my whim."

"I am not the only one who submits, Avery," Severus murmured huskily into the crook of his neck. "As for Evans… she'll come around."

He gasped deeply at his lover's playfulness; his lips sent heat to march in a steady stream throughout his body. Soon, he'd have more than just a clouded mind if his companion wasn't careful.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know her." He gazed down. "Evans and I have been friends since before coming to Hogwarts. She wouldn't let some petty fight come between us."

"Some fight sparked between you and her." Avery huffed, defeated. "She hates me."

"She does not hate you."

"Then, what does she hates?"

"The things you do." Severus hissed.

"It's been several months, Severus. How long will the connection for her take?" He asked, his voice laced with sadness.

Severus eyed his companion carefully before pulling away to take a good look at him. _"_ She'll never come to us, Avery. Not if you constantly provide her reason to loath you."

"I-"he could not deny that the recent events of his foolish need to get attention had not been behind her unreasonable hatred for him. No one told him that making fun of how a girl looked or teasing her was suitable in polite company. He couldn't help what he felt for her and the only way he could chase away the demons that rose before him was to take it out on Evans, even if it hurt her feelings. "Y-you're right."

"Of course I am." Severus boasted playfully. "Aren't I always?"

Avery growled softly, placed his hands behind his head, and forced his lips to crash down upon his. They remained in a locked embrace for several minutes until Severus broke the connection of their lips. Panting, he eyed his lover with remote ease.

Although he said he felt better, he couldn't help wonder about the truth of his words. Little did he know that months from the fateful night, his world would be shattered and he would be left to pick up the pieces?

* * *

Rising from a memory was like pulling away from the cold depths of a lake. At first, breaking to the surface pricks the skin and sends thousands of tiny electrical currents to course through the body. It was as if as if his entire body was humming with the song of birds. His body shook uncontrollably as his mind tried to settle and comprehend what he had just seen.

Yes, the Slytherin Prince definitely regretted diving into something he ought to have left alone.

Pushing away from the marbled bowl, Draco turned and took a seat on the couch that he had shared with his lover's hours ago.

He thought for certain that if he took another glance at their past reincarnations that it would emphasize the need to make the commitment with Hermione. Somehow, he was mistaken. How could he have been wrong to think that taking a trip to the past would rectify how he was feeling? With these conflicting thoughts and emotions, how was he to pacify and come to terms with what was happening between them? Most of all, how can he be so bloody insecure?

Why did he have to allow his insecurities about his connection thwart any chance that he had at reuniting with his lovers? Why did it have to be him with the inferior dispositions? How was it that Hermione and Blaise could be so calm and firm with themselves and each other, leaving him to wither like a rose in winter?

All these questions weren't providing with any sense of comfort. They only tore him more apart.

With a sigh, Draco pulled away from the marbled bowl, raising his wand and vanquishing the remaining water from the basin. He watched with unhurried interest as the water evaporate before corking the phial in his hand. His memories shined as brightly as the moon that hung in the sky. The swirling remanence of his departed sorrow.

He was sure that the memories Snape had provided him would bring him some sort of closure or inkling as to what he may be feeling. With all that has happened, he wasn't exactly sure he could push Hermione to consummating their relationship, especially light of the recent events. They still have yet to figure out what Weasley was planning, if she was planning anything at all. Her involvement in tampering with the connection between Blaise and Hermione had caused a growing need to figure out to sprout inside of him. If she was capable of inflicting that type of injury to her, there was no telling what else she could do. If she tried, Weasley could tear them all apart.

All he knew, it wouldn't be the first time.

Draco let out an exasperated sigh; he didn't want to dwell on anything like that, especially after the night he shared with Hermione. With another soft, lament sigh, he gathered himself and turned away from the curtains where the basin once sat. Coalesced panic flourished before he had time to realize he was being watched.

"Hermione?" he asked, almost frightened that the vision before him was feigned.

The angelic image gasped at the realization of being found out. "I- I didn't mean to pry." she told him, shaking a bit from the cold air.

He looked at her, clenched his hands and let out a long, tired shutter. Gods, she did not know what she did to him; every fiber of his being screamed to take her, to fuck his insecurities and for once listen to his heart. It was hard to when his heart and mind and two different agendas. Draco couldn't even begin to voice just how much he wanted her, loved her, and cherished every second that he got to spend with her. It was hard to put into words exactly how he was feeling right at this very moment.

During his musings, Hermione had moved away from the joined staircase was now standing in front of him.

He held his breath, desperate for her to touch him but too frightened to even ask. She seemed to know what he was thinking, though. Reaching out, she placed a small hand on his chest and let out a shuddering sigh.

"I- I felt your distress." She gave him a slight nod and looked up at him with her auburn eyes.

Draco bit his tongue; he could feel his entire body stand at attention to her touch. It was like being teased for hours but to have it all come crashing down in a matter of seconds. His body was in complete submission to his lingering caprices. His mind raced with rapturous images and he really had to force himself to think of other thinks to ease the tightening in his pajama pants.

 _Dumbledore stark naked racing down the corridors. Dumbledore stark naked racing down the corridors._

This mantra seemed to help immensely until the little witch decided to wrap her arms around him and press her body flush against his.

He was sure that she could feel it straining against her stomach.

"You- weren't prying." he managed to tell her through gritted teeth. One thing was for sure, no matter his insecurities, his reaction to her hadn't been affected. "I was just going to bed."

Hermione dropped her arms from him and stepped back. Draco could see the inflictions playing in her eyes and he was lost. He didn't want to lie to her, nor did he want to tell her what he had been doing. Isn't a man's job to be strong? He didn't want her to think less of him.

Draco watched the light in her eyes dim as a staggering ache clenched around his heart. He never wanted to see that spark in her eyes dimmer, even slightly.

Panicked, he reached for her and her body collided into his. "Don't go."

"I w-wasn't-" she stuttered. Draco wrapped his arms around her, refusing to let go.

It was moments like these that made all his insecurities, his doubts and worries vanish. He lived for these moments like a wizard lived to see another day to cast a spell. It was a primitive need, an elementary notion to want to stand beside this witch. His place wasn't in another arms; he certainly wouldn't allow another wizard to touch the woman he had already claimed. She was his. She was theirs to love and cherish.

Draco wrapped his arms more securely around her and she let out an astonished squeal. Tentively, she wound her arms around him and they stood in the ambient silence for several long uninterrupted minutes.

When they finally pulled away, he brought his lips to hers and poured everything into the kiss that he could. It was one of promises and he meant everything that he thought.

He would stand beside her.

Not one would get in the way of their relationship.

* * *

"No more!" he pleaded to the merciless being that continued to torment him. For hours he's been punished over and over again, forced to relive horrific scenes of his past. He had been entirely wrong about stepped back to the past to see if anything could aid him. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for the torture that was awaiting him.

Through countless images, he relived everything. From first meeting his promised ones to uttering that bloody word to the matriarch of his heart- he saw everything.

Frightened, Severus stumbled out of the memory just in time to catch himself. Shaking with grief, he jerked wildly about until his nerves were able to sooth themselves. The cold air hit him like a winter storm; there was no salvation, no commendable loyalty to the greater good. There was only more heartache and sorrow.

* * *

 **A/N: Unbeta'd- but she is catching up remarkably fast.** I hope this chapter doesn't come as a disappointment. It was only meant to be a refresher. Things are about to heat up. We are coming to the inciting incident (if it already happened it in you're mind, you're terribly wrong, I'm sorry). I'm hoping to post chapters nine and ten this week. Between a very naughty kitty with a penchant to wreck havoc wherever she treads to forgetting what day my test is, thinks have gotten a bit hectic. I'm praying- _really_ \- that things settle down. I go on vacation in less than three weeks and I want to be able to get everything done before then. Let's hope, shall we?

Anyway, thank you for your patience. I can't believe the support I'm getting for this! I will post beta'd versions of the story tomorrow morning and hopefully I have the beta'd version of chapter eight before Friday. Again, let's hope :)

Hope y'all have a wonderful week! Also, I am restarting my other story, Salutem again. Look forward to two edited versions of the Prologue and Chapter One by March 13th.

As always, enjoy.


	10. 10

_It took a bit longer to write this chapter but I hope I delivered well. It is unbeta'd but my beta is catching up. Real life creeps up unexpectedly and her computer crashed not too long ago. I'm not upset, of course. Completely understandable. Hope y'all will understand._

 _Also, you may have noticed the change in dates -.- I didn't realize it until recently. I will rectify that mistake tomorrow as well as posted the most recent beta'd chapters. (3-6) and make sure that chapter 7-9 are as clean and edited as they can be. I'll still have my beta look over them._

 _Sorry about that!_

 _Note: Chapter ten will have explicit content ;) Not the full, highly anticipated scene but enough to satisfy your needs. Hope that meets expectations. More early relationship scenes to come as well, as you will see._

 _As always, enjoy!_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Nine_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Monday December sixteenth, 1996**

The weekend had proven to be uneventful for Hermione. Between essays and homework, she had very little free time to spend gathered by the fire and reading. Much to her surprise, she didn't see Draco or Blaise. She immediately assumed that they had other things to do. As much as it bothered her, she felt incredibly relaxed and more confident in herself than she had been in the last couple of weeks. For once, she felt secure and her standing with them could not have been better. At least, that's what she made herself believe.

"I swear, Slughorn is going to be the death of me," grumbled Harry as they made their way down the Great Hall for breakfast. For the last several weeks, Harry has been dreading the upcoming party that was to be held by their Potion's Master. Only the select few would attend, of course but he saw no point in going, especially when his own girlfriend had her own reservations about attending. "The man keeps asking me who I'm taking to the Yule Party. I'm not even sure I want to attend, given the last time I attended a gathering with him."

"The dinner party wasn't so bad," offered Hermione with a smile.

"Oh, yes." Harry agreed sarcastically. "Between McLaggen sending suggestive glances at you to the drunkard of a Professor proclaiming his life's accomplishments and tripping over the wine table- Hermione, if it weren't for Katie and you, I wouldn't even bother."

"Speaking of Katie," she said cheerfully. "Has she told you when she wanted to go to Hogsmeade? She wanted to go before the rush. You know, to get the best dresses."

He shook his head, took a seat and grabbed a piece of toast. "No, she hasn't. Haven't seen her since Friday night, why? I thought you weren't going?"

"I… uh, changed my mind."

"Who's taking you, Hermione?"

"J-just a friend." She suddenly felt nervous. She knew that Harry had his suspicions and she couldn't possibly get into a deep debate about who she was going with, especially not so early in the damn morning and around so many people. If she was going to tell him, it would be on her terms but she knew she had to do it quickly. The longer she stretched out telling him, the nastier and grave it could become. She definitely didn't want that. "You'll see on Saturday."

"Is it Draco?"

A deep blush settled unpleasantly on both her cheeks. It took a lot of self-control not to acknowledge the fact that her cheeks were burning so intensely that she could feel the heat spread down her neck and across her chest. Even her fingers began to tremble a little. With one of her lover's names, she melted like snow in the sun. She was utterly hopeless, and she hasn't even talked to them about attending the Yule Party!

"No, I-I haven't spoken to him about it." She lied, even though it was the solid truth. In fact, she didn't think she would speak to them about it. The night that they shared together was marked by not just the semblance of their future but the mirrored erosion of their hearts. Even as she fallen asleep, she felt a considerable shift between all of them. It all began the moment that she promised Draco that she would do anything for him and Blaise was when darkness had taken control. After his projected promise of giving her anything as well, it was almost the darkness had sealed some sort of deal with her. Hermione hadn't spoken to either of them about it, but she felt incredibly sick afterwards. Up until now, she's been hiding that secret fairly well. Even now, as she reached for a bowl and poured herself some oatmeal, she was fighting the urge to skip breakfast altogether.

Harry leaned back a little and shrugged. "Well, whether or not you ask him is no concern of mine. Just be careful."

She almost stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "There you go again- how many times must I remind you that I am more than capable of handling myself?"

"Hermione, I-"

"Shush! I am sick and tired of you trying to dictate my life." She suddenly stood and glared at him, forgetting all about forcing herself to eat. "And, as I have told you before, Draco and I are friends and if I want to ask him to the party then I have every right to do so. You're not my father, Harry. Sometimes," she sighed at this," sometimes you sound like Ron."

"I'm only looking out for you." He said in his defense. "And, don't compare me to Ron. I'm nothing like him."

Behind her, she could hear Lavender's obnoxious voice carry down the length of the Hall. Without turning back, Hermione caught Harry's eye.

"I can handle myself. I'm not as weak as you think I am."

"I never said that." He hissed. "Look, just be careful, alright? I don't want him hurting you."

"Draco could never hurt me."

She would never know just how persistently ominous that sounded to Harry's ears.

* * *

From where she sat, Hermione could just make out the green and silver dots of her lovers colors. During this time, while the rest of the school was racing to finish last minute assignments, the Slytherin Quidditch team was engaged in a brutal practice tournament before the high anticipated game with the Gryffindor's. It was literally the only thing that the school could talk about; games between the rival houses were always a joy to watch. Well, for most.

"I don't understand what the big deal is." said Hermione, ditching her homework for Slughorn so she could focus on the practice. Even where she sat, she was able to see the movements of each player, engage each of them and even make out who was getting a scolding by Harry. She was never the one for sports, and she was deathly afraid of heights but she at least had the decency to pretend she cared. She had to when her two best friends were completely wrapped up in the entire affair that was Quidditch. Five years of it and she still didn't understand what was so fascinating about it.

In front of her sat Lavender brown. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would be sharing a table or find herself deeply engaged in conversation with her. It took some considerable amount of willpower, but Hermione finally let go of whatever grudge that she had for the girl and put her differences aside. Granted, it was one of the hardest things to do; Lavender wasn't the easiest person to get along with but at least she was easy to talk to. After spending some time with her, Hermione came to realize that she wasn't so bad. She was exactly quite literate and was someone she could easily get caught up talking to. If it wasn't for her boyfriend, she would have spoken to her ages ago.

Lavender dared a look out the window and sighed. "I don't know. Same reason we find makeup and boys fascinating, yeah?"

Hermione giggled. Out of all the things she could have compared it to, she had to choose that. "I suppose so." she agreed and they found themselves sharing a good-natured laugh. "Though, I can't possibly begin to understand their fascination with something that can easily kill you."

"They said the same thing about makeup and charms but hasn't stopped be from doing either," laughed Lavender before focusing her attention back her notes.

Their laughter dwindled down and they found themselves faced with silence that they were all too familiar with.

"Speaking of Charms, Lavender?" a small, gentle voice said.

Katie Bell sat right across from them and hadn't paid a single ounce of attention to either of them. It took them quite a lot of effort to pry the poor girl from Harry and now that they finally had her, she wasn't talking. It's as if she was mad at them from pulling her away from her boyfriend but that was entirely her problem. She needed some fresh air and what better way than spend some quality time in a stuffy library with a whole motley of other students? Although it wasn't her idealistic location, Katie had slowly grown comfortable enough to at least engage them about her notes.

Lavender huffed. "If this is about that damn spell, Katie I swear to Merlin-"

"It's not about _Charms_." Her voice lowered a bit, threateningly. "I'm talking about charms."

She obviously didn't understand what she was talking about and it took every bit of restraint for Hermione not to blurt out the answer.

Of course she would be talking about the charms decorating every available surface on campus. The entire school had been blanketed in a crisp sheet of white. From enchanted Christmas trees to levitating candles that flickered from red to green and gold every thirty seconds and carolers. A cheerful vibe had swept through the halls and filled the corridors with sensory delight and merriment. Christmas was truly the most wonderful time of the year and like a child on Christmas day, Hermione was smitten with the very idea of curiosity and generosity. She had always loved the season especially when the holiday was meant to bring people then tear them apart.

Before Hermione could speak, Lavender broke the silence first.

"So," she began, plastering a smile on her face. Hermione could see the immense difference between the ones that she forced to present prior to the reconciliation to the one she shared now. It was remarkable how two people could aside their differences and how quickly a friendship can form. She didn't have many girlfriends and the last friend she spoke to hadn't been entirely friendly. Hermione has yet to speak to her and still refused to do so since the incident. Ginny would have to come to her if she ever wanted to apologize for what she did. "The Yule Party is coming up. Has anyone asked you yet?"

It was the question of being asked but if they were _ever_ going to ask her. She still had yet to discuss it with them and now that she mentioned it, Hermione was scared of what they would say. For weeks she's been stressing over the party, figuring that they'd eventually convene together and ask her. Even to go with one of them, Hermione was open to any sort of plan or possibility that they had planned. Sure, it would mean that one of them would be left to watch the other enjoy their evening together. To be honest, she didn't think she had the heart to do that to either of her Slytherins. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she could just stay in the head's room or catch up on some much needed studying. That way, no one gets hurt.

"No one has asked me."

Katie just rolled her eyes and went back to her notes. Obviously, she had been asked and her little idea of entertainment hadn't gone according to plan.

Lavender quirked her eyebrow before another mysterious smile appeared on her lips. "Oh, come on. Don't be bashful."

"Why on earth would I be- "

"I've heard the rumors, Hermione." There was a hint of warning in her voice. "Admit it, someone's asked you!"

"No one has asked me!" There was nothing that she hated more than Lavender's persistence. The girl could talk and she could get anyone to spill their darkest secrets; like she needed her to spread some false rumor about Draco or Blaise. Hermione had no grievances about keeping her mouth shut until Lavender affronted her with the most scandalized thing she's ever heard.

"Come on, I know Cormac asked you to the party." she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and winked. "I find it rather sweet that he's asked you, Hermione. Katie and I have been wondering when he would locate his balls and ask you. It was getting annoying watch him follow you around and back out at the last moment."

This was when the third member of their study group chose to speak. Harry's girlfriend had kept her mouth shut, in fear that she would say something wrong. Katie was known to voice more than just her opinions and found Lavender more than just infuriating. Instead of speaking up until this point, she had pressed her nose firmly against her Potion's book and remained silent.

"She's got a point," she shut her book, ditched her notes and gazed at the curly-haired witch. "He has been itching to ask you since the dinner party. Merlin knows he could use all the luck he needed. Told him he'd have better luck asking out a Hippogriff than getting you to attend the part with him."

"Why would you say that?"

"Don't take this offensively but you aren't exactly… approachable. You make boys want to stay clear of you because your arrogance and self-riotousness."

"And, a Hippogriff wouldn't be as domineering. Just temperamental."

This really didn't stun her as much as she thought it would. Though, she had to inquire. "My _self-riotousness_?" she held back a retort as well an egocentric laugh. Among the hilarious things that came out of their mouths, this had to be the funniest thing that she has heard.

Katie frowned at her boldness.

"I'm s-sorry." She tried to right herself but couldn't. It was literally the funniest thing that they could have said to her. Of course she knew that boys found her a little bit hard to handle; she wasn't exactly the easiest person to speak to, and her intelligence did more harm than good. Even Harry and Ron found her intrusively annoying. Not that their small, menial opinions mattered. She just found other ways to cope with other's average-leveled abilities. "I- just find the entire thing amusing, that's all."

Lavender just stared at her, defeated while Katie twisted her lips to the side of her face. Clearly they've been found out. "Alright, you got us. It wasn't Cormac that wanted to ask you to the party. It couldn't have hurt you to go along with it, though."

"Did you honestly think that I would believe that?" she giggled hysterically. Never in her life did her sides hurt more than they did now. "Cormac is positively disgusting. No one in their rightful mind would go out with him."

"It's not the personality that we're attracted to, Granger." suggested Katie. "It's-"

Hermione stopped her before she could finish. She really didn't want her to finish that sentence nor did she want to know what her suggestions could have brought her to. "Do not finish that remark."

She grinned cynically at her. "Or what? Afraid of what lies below the waist of a hot, sensual male specimen?"

"Merlin," she breathed," you did _not_ just say that." Hermione looked disgusted. "And, if you're not going to tell me who you're talking about then I vote we choose another topic to discuss." Her eyes darted to the unfinished notes before her. She would very much like to get back to review her Charms notes than talk about the impressive appendages of a male.

When neither of them motioned to speak, Hermione took it upon herself to open her textbook back up. Before she could re-read the first line of her notes, Katie spoke again, starling her out of her educational reverie.

"Rumor has it that a certain _Slytherin Prince_ was planning on asking you to the party."

Lavender just wiggled her eyes admonishingly at her.

Blushing, Hermione turned her attention away from her textbook and notes and to her two house mates.

How they came across the absurdity was beyond her but she wasn't going to allow them to sit there and tease her about it! Who she went out with was no concern of theirs and if she was in fact going to be asked by one of her boys then she was going to sit and wait for one of them to find the courage to ask her. They weren't going to get away with using other's as resources for their nefarious needs.

Sure, deep down she wanted them to take her or find some way that they could all spend the upcoming night together. Those were just whimsical wishes that she longed to make true.

"You're being stupid. Slytherins would rather be caught dead than ask a Gryffindor out." Hermione waved her had dismissively. "But, for recreational purposes, which Slytherin was it?"

Katie's smile widened, stretching charmingly across her face. It quickly became apparent that Lavender and Katie knew more than they have led on.

"Oh, I think you know which one," she winked as Lavender giggled.

Hermione frowned. "No, I don't actually."

"Come on, Hermione. We've seen the two of you. Ever since you've became Head girl, you two have been inseparable."

Draco then.

"Not to mention he's absolutely smitten by you, too." Lavender chimed in rather cheerfully. "Top of the class _and_ going out. Impressive, if I say so myself."

"Bookworms do attract other bookworms," agreed Katie, thoughtfully though Hermione didn't acknowledge her friend's attempt at a joke. "Who knew that the blonde-haired Slytherin Prince would fancy the Gryffindor Princess?"

She tried to fix her face as to not show astonishment but failed. Katie and Lavender chortled playfully as the heat of Hermione's cheeks rose. They were taking great advantage of the situation!

"I don't know who told you that but it isn't true. And, of course we've grown close. We do share a dorm, you know and we share a majority of our classes- "

"This has nothing to do with what classes you share, Granger. We already know how indecisive you can be about picking which courses to take and Malfoy just so happened to pick the same ones you did."

"If this isn't about that then what is this about?" she asked nervously, almost reluctant to hear what they had to say.

"You fancy him!" Lavender whispered loudly, beaming with excitement. Her voice may have been a soft, unnoticed buzz but somehow it drew the attention of several students studying just a few feet away. Hermione's cheeks reddened even more. She tried to keep them from exploding and blowing things out of proportion.

"You've got it wrong," she told them earnestly. "I-I don't fancy him." It wasn't a lie, just a veiled truth.

Hermione didn't just fancy him, she loved him. There was no way she would ever admit that to them, no matter how absolutely true the statement was.

She didn't fancy him; she loved him.

Everything about him made her heart speed up and her stomach flutter with butterflies. Just a simple smile of graze of their shoulders sent reverberating shivers to course through her body. A day didn't go by that she didn't think about him. Every time she did, an erotic spark would set off inside of her and would usher a whole new level of a radiance to channel between them. A simple glance, an oeillade penetrated her very soul and exposed her to the most innocent yet sinfully imploring callings. Exposed to such gorgeous eyes left her more vulnerable each day and she wished that he wouldn't look at her as if he knew exactly what she was think, feeling or going to say. It was a secret of hers; she was a sucker for his eyes.

His eyes weren't the only things that she loved. His smile, hidden kindness and not to mention his humor and intelligence. The only thing she couldn't understand is what they saw in her.

It didn't take her long to realize something she never thought of, let alone admitted to herself. The answer was right in front of her; other's found her annoyingly knowledgeable, bossy and

"Alright, I fancy him." she admitted after some time, her heart hammering away in her chest. She looked at them and frowned. "Wipe those smirks off your faces!"

They just continued to stare at her as if she said the most astounding thing. "Y-you what?"

A blush rose from her chest and blossomed across her face. "I fancy him." Hermione said, reiterating the statement. "I have for a while and… come on, like you said we have gotten close over the last couple of months and we do spend quite a lot of time together. It was hard _not_ to fall for the bloke."

Lavender and Katie appeared to be bursting with a million and one questions, all ranging from the most sensible of inquiries to the downright personal. During the last hour of sunlight, they had gotten her to answer the most burning questions, all the satisfy their need to know how their relationship started and where they both saw it going in the next several months. It was their sixth year and it would be adorable to have their relationship exceed well into their adult life, and beyond that. Hermione nearly choked on her smuggled pumpkin juice. Clearly, she hadn't thought that far into the future but to think that she had some kind of chance of being with both of them was heartwarming.

"When did the love set in?" Lavender asked, trying to conceal her overzealous need to know.

"She means," corrected Katie hastily, "when did you realize that you loved him."

Truth be told, Hermione knew for a while. If she was completely honest with herself, she imagined that the she knew she loved him before she was even able to comprehend the concept. During their early years, she would have completely fell head over heels if he even glanced at her. Now, that feeling of weightlessness and captivated serenity was amplified by a thousand. Comparing her relationship now and with the past, she could see an immense difference in how they both acted with each other. With respect that only comes from posed gentlemen, Draco treated her the way a man ought to tree a woman.

"I don't know," she didn't want to open herself up and tell them exactly when she realized it, fearing that they would ridicule her.

"Come on, Granger," Katie urged with a wink. "Tell us."

Blushing slightly, Hermione took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Alright, I'll tell you." She paused, looking at both of them as she fought to tell them. "I fell in love with him before I realized what love was."

They sat there for a minute or so before Katie sat back in her chair. The atmosphere changed from tense speculation to downright unnerving blather. Her former housemates spoke in such loud, hushed tones that it forced the surrounding groups to move from their spots and seek refuge elsewhere. Hermione had never been so mortified in her entire life.

After some time, the topic of her romance with the Slytherin turned back to the Yule party. Secretly, they both wished that he would, as they put it so kindly and vividly, find his courage and ask her already. It was less than a week away and with a decent amount of channeling and charms, the girls were sure that they'd be able find something half-suitable for the evening. Even if they had to pry it from someone's cold, dead hands, they vowed that they would be the most well-dressed ladies of the evening.

"I'm telling you. If anyone even thinks they can up one me they have another thing coming." Katie said, a bit of overconfidence in her voice.

Hermione only laughed at her comic remark while Lavender agreed with her.

"Malfoy better ask you soon, or someone else will." Lavender chided in happily as she gathered her belongings and giggled humorously. "I'm very much looking forward to seeing you two there, Hermione. I can only imagine how beautiful you will look. You two really do balance each other out remarkably well."

The girls bid her farewell sometime after that and for a good hour, Hermione was left to contemplate the conversation she shared with them.

She wasn't at all surprised that they would be interested in who took her to the party; though, it was wrong of her to even suggest that Draco was her only consort. Despite the past, she not only had him to think of but Blaise as well. There were qualities that she loved about him, too. Like the way he would stare knowingly at her and not say a word. Like a private oasis shared only between them, it made a lot of their time together serenely wonderful.

There was a lot that she loved about them both, but it was hard to put into context exactly what she loved the most about them. Perhaps, it was the way they all seemed to intertwine. Like perfect pieces of a final picture, they fit each other well. Woven by the same intricately complex wine thread, they shared something others just wouldn't understand and could only wish upon a falling star that they could share it with someone they loved.

This drew to some haunting conclusions.

Making sure that no one was watching her, Hermione stood and walked away from the cozy little table. The scent of pumpkin followed her, only vastly reminding her of Katie's mastery of eluding the librarian.

Why was it that they knew so much when she knew so little? Hadn't they once thought that she would be interested in knowing about their past lives. As she had said before, their past didn't matter when they had a whole new lifetime to think about. In the course of three years, he had changed from the rude, arrogant little boy to a well refined man. His view of the world changed so significantly that he stopped using the one derogatory word that he had come to appraise with sick approval. Even Blaise had changed. After the Yule Ball, from what she was able to see, he had changed as well.

Draco had years to perfect what she could only imagine was the most conflicting source to his sanity. Born from a brush of her skin, he had been opened to a whole world that was quite the opposite to what he had grown up knowing and was used to. It was then that she realized that he changed because of her. Blaise was another example to the workings that of their connection. If it hadn't been for her, neither of them would have found her and she wouldn't have found them. She looked forward to what was to come.

With all her heart she wanted that future. The one where they all could be together, happy, and basking in the light of life and welcoming whatever blessings that were given to them. Hermione didn't believe in anything that she couldn't explain, and even the notion of soulmates had not only been completely unrealistic but totally improbable. To think that two individuals, let alone three, were connected by a single red thread that couldn't even be damaged by the Fate's shears was preposterous. Of all things that Trelawney had predicted, foreshadowed, and prophesized during Divination, she did not mention a single instance of Soulmates of Three. They were not only a rarity, but among the handful of Aphrodite's children that have come to prove that love can be shared between more than two people.

There was more that she wanted to know. How was it possible for a Goddess that advocated love and sexuality to detest the shared compassion of other's? Wasn't her sole purpose in life to spread the good-natured teachings of love and the many forms that blossomed from the its mother seed?

Hermione has been contemplating these questions ever since finding the page within her old tome. Nights wasted away, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation to something that she just couldn't understand.

Perhaps it was best to not think about it. She had just proven to herself that she was more than accepting of love and even more so worthy of being loved. That's all she wanted; to be loved by someone who she shared the same alluring feelings was more than she could ever ask for. For two people to find nothing but the highest respect and adoration for her wasn't something that she ever thought she would receive. Hermione owed them her gratitude.

With a smile, she walked back to the table. Being surrounded by the volumes of the ages had been more than enough to settle her intrusive thoughts and reconcile any conflicts she may have had. Her boys may have their feelings and thoughts sorted but it had taken a little bit longer for her to do the same. Both, as she suspected, didn't think it would take this long for her to establish herself in their relationship. Although anxious, she felt a lot better than she had when they first began seeing each other.

* * *

 _ **Monday, November Twelve, 1996**_

A callously wicked vibe ran down her back as she trotted across the Common Room for the third time. Sitting casually on the couch, dressed in tailored black slacks, white dress shirt and loose tie was Draco. He seemed relatively calm compared to his unique counterpart, who had been told the startling news that the third member of their companionship would arrive some time before the stroke of nine. This information hadn't been last minute, but it might as well have been. All day Hermione stressed about talking to the dark-skinned Slytherin. She was particularly interested in how he had taken the news of… well, their situation. A lot of questions bombarded her, begging her to pick them to ask first but only one had won and she literally prayed that he would be able to answer.

"Calm down, Granger." drawled Draco, a little bit too calmly. He acted as if meeting Zabini was an everyday occurrence and that she shouldn't be worried about talking to someone she ought to know wouldn't intentionally hurt her. For the past several days, he has eased her into the idea of them all sitting down to talk and now that he coaxed her into it, he feared that she would back out at the last possible moment. That would be calamitous to say the least; she was not the only one nervous about meeting up. Blaise had been harder to convince. "You're making me anxious by walking back and forth."

"It's the only thing keeping me from running away."

Draco frowned at that before sighing. This was not how he imagined their first meeting. Sure, he knew that she wouldn't immediately accept him; Zabini and Hermione didn't exactly see eye to eye but he knew that if he at least got them in the same room, they would eventually put their differences aside and talk. If not, then he thought reluctantly, he was in for a long arse night.

"Then, should I suggest something less stressful?" he asked just as she passed by him.

Before she could answer, Draco reached out and grabbed her wrist and swung her to face him. With a stolid expression, he brought his lips to hers. She fought for a moment, unsure on how to act or move before she melted into the almost too chaste kiss. He could feel her relax in his grip; she opened her mouth slightly and whimpered with his tongue breeched the softness of her lips.

All too quickly, they pulled away, gasping.

Draco smirked arrogantly. "Better?"

She nodded slowly. "Much better."

"Good, now take a seat." he nodded to the space between them. "Blaise will never forgive me if he thought that I couldn't console you properly."

"And, why would he do that?"

He gave her a sideways glance and sighed. "He's very observant. Everything he sees and hears is all because he's able to take in his surroundings better than anyone else I know. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

Hermione thought for a moment, fidgeting with her shirt. He eyed the nervous habit and instantly put a stop to it.

"I can't say I've noticed…" she admitted softly. Truth be told, she never really paid much attention to him. He was just another blurred face to her… until now.

"Trust me," Draco rubbed his wrist thoughtfully," he'd know if there was something wrong."

Hermione nodded, understanding somewhat what he meant.

They sat like the for some time before the woman in the portrait appeared and announced the arrival of their guest. With a polite thank you from Draco, they stood and waited for her frame to swing open. When it did, Hermione's breath caught in her throat and for the briefest moment she forgot how to breath.

Blaise Zabini was not how she remembered him.

* * *

Sometime after eight, Hermione arrived back at the Head' room. She dumped her books onto the small coffee table and proceeded to undress, knowing that Draco was off doing Merlin knows what. It was unlike him to leave without telling her where he would be, not that he ever did that in past. He was a spontaneous young man and drifted wherever he very well pleased. Knowing him as well as she did, he was probably still in the locker room with Blaise or on his way back.

With an audible sigh, Hermione pulled her cloak off her body, paying no mind to the hurried footsteps just outside the portrait door. No doubt the Gryffindors were on their way back from scooping out the competition. When will the rivalry end?

Giggling, Hermione turned around, her eyes narrowing on something distinctively green and silver. Draco was always so tidy and organized, but seeing one of his Quidditch sweaters lying out of the open gave her some very devious ideas what to do with it. His sweater looked comfortable enough and he had plenty of them to support the entire team; the man was very generous with his money as well as his exceptional outlook and leadership. There was a reason why he had been chosen as Slytherin's Captain. In fact, she saw no repercussions in stealing his shirt.

With that resolved, Hermione walked over and snatched the green piece off the back of the couch. She shivered at the softness as she held it up to her nose and took a deep intake of air. It smelled just like him, of amber and wood. She longed to see him. The thought of him coming back to their dorms and seeing her in his shirt excited her.

Holding Draco's shirt tightly against her chest, Hermione dashed toward her chambers without a second thought as to what she was about to do.


	11. 11

_Not much to say except that this is an explicit chapter and only gets more explicit as the chapter progresses. First scene is a bit on the dark side. Y'all won't like me after you read it, but I do hope you like the last scene :)_

 _Look forward to the continuation of their... moment together before things turn for the worse. I will edit it tomorrow morning and post the edited chapter some time around five. All mistakes are solely mine T.T_

 _ **A/N** at the bottom._

 _As always, enjoy._

 _Read and Review ;) Let me know what y'all think, please!_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Ten_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Monday December sixteenth, 1996**

 **Quidditch field**

A solitary figure emerged from the hidden passage beneath the Quidditch stands. Her dark brown eyes were fixated solely on the heavens as the Adonis' of Hogwarts' richest, aristocratic house took flight; eclipsed by the gleaming light of the moon, the redheaded Gryffindor was completely hidden from their eyes. Not that she would allow them so her, given the circumstances of their practice. She stole away in the night to seek comfort and execute her plan precisely as it has been previously foretold. A promise, a blessed gift. A smile formed upon her lips at the prospects of finally acquiring what she so _desperately_ wanted. _Love_. A simple notion, but meant everything to her. Standing her way, though, was a nuisance of astronomical proportions. Her flaming hair red was set ablaze with the resentment and utter vengeance. She will get what she wanted, even at the cost of another's life.

"There you are, Weasley."

The woman turned, smiling at her acquaintance. "It's so good to see you as well, McLaggen."

Cormac regarded the youngest Weasley skeptically. It was true that Ginny Weasley was not one for simplicity, or even kind words but he somehow fell for the easy trick of believing that she was kind to extend that pleasantry. Concerned, though, he kept his distance.

"So, I'm here." he told her, pointing out the obvious just as her attention turned back to the men racing each other in the night sky on their expensive brooms. No doubt a generous gift provided by their Captain's father. Every year was a different gift, she noted. This one happened to be bribery to allow the slithering Malfoy heir captain. "What do you want?"

"It's not what _I_ want you should be asking, McLaggen. It's what _you_ want." Ginny was speaking in rhymes and he wasn't particularly fond of her raillery.

Ginny stepped away from the perimeter of the stands and beckoned him to follow her. When she sensed it was safe enough to talk, she turned on her heel and pivoted around in one graceful move. Her hair swung around her shoulders as a sinister grin formed on her lips.

"I have a proposition for you that I find that you won't be able to pass up once I tell you of its… unique beneficial factors."

"Look, whatever you're planning, I don't want in on it," he snarled, not wasting a breath to tell her that he had no interest in her little schemes. "I've told you this once and I'll tell you again," he stepped forward, his towering frame overpowering her smaller one," I'll get Granger on my own terms. I don't need a slut like you trying to interfere with my plans."

"And, what _are_ your plans, Cormac?" She giggled, though a nasty retort about Granger was forming behind her comical words.

How dare he call her a slut when there were bigger harlots that roamed Hogwarts' halls! Pansy Parkinson for one; she was known to be extremely promiscuous and, according to the florid rumors among the student body, had slept with over half the older students, girls included. Ginny was no better, she was afraid. She found sex to be incredibly fulfilling, even with blokes that didn't know what the fuck they were doing, but to think there was still innocence amongst them was an absurdity that she would soon vanquish. Granger may not have done something to hurt her as she had done to her. The simple fact of seeing and knowing that she had something she could not touch drove the passion within her to seek vengeance and rid her of the girl.

For years she's watched him. Drowned in the shadows of others, Ginny had engaged him from the sidelines, hoping, waiting, and watching for the chance to be with him.

Blaise was no ordinary wizard. She knew that. He was physically built, intelligently charming and there was something else about him that she was enchanted with that she couldn't place.

Ginny moved closer to him, her eyes roaming over his body. She would never admit this out loud, but McLaggen was quite handsome. With golden blonde hair and vividly bright green eyes, his physical appearance was quite easy on the eye. McLaggen was the focus of all the girls' fantasies. All the girls, including her at one point, fawned over the Quidditch player. Not for his bravery for eating doxy eggs due to a bet to prove his masculinity. Of course, the fool accepted the challenge in the end and landed himself almost two weeks in the Hospital Wings as a punishment for consuming the nearly deadly eggs. The girls didn't like him because he was intelligent or concerned with the greater good. The only thing they fancied him for was what lied below the belt. McLaggen, among a good handful of the male population, had quite the reputation for delivering an Outstanding when it came to sex. Just as a lot of the girls, Ginny was smitten by the mere idea what he could do in the boudoir.

"See," she giggled finally, inching closer to him. Cormac drew back as her hand came forward, her fingers climbing up and into the exposure of his button down shirt. He hissed. "You don't have a plan. And, if you did, it's not a very good one."

It was as if she could see the uncertainty through his eyes. Of course he had a plan, but like she so graciously pointed out it wasn't very good.

"Let me guess," she pulled away, "You thought you could just whisk her away on some romantic escape? That, dare I say, is the most ridiculous load of rubbish that I have ever heard. Granger may be a prudent old witch, but she's not dumb enough to fall for such primitive means of courting. Did you honestly think that she would?"

When Cormac didn't answer, Ginny took the initiative to keep talking, finding this bit of information a bit liberating to say the least.

It was no secret that he fancied her. Ever since the bloody Yule Ball, he's had his eyes dead set on the annoying little bitch. She turned more eyes than one that night. Ginny knew because she had been watching him closely that night. Something had felt off and she wanted to make sure nothing changed between them. But, it did. Every fucking thing that could have gone wrong had indeed happened. Whatever infatuated feeling she had experienced with him had amplified, as if someone had turned a small knob on her heart to the highest setting. She felt overly jealous, hatful, and vengeful toward the girl despite her not being the culprit behind her sudden, drastic change.

Even so, Ginny loathed her. Everything about her sent a raging fire of hatred to ignite within her.

"To be quite truthful, I don't know what you see in her." Ginny told him.

It was his turn to grin. "Oh, don't give me that shite."

She stared at him, alarmed with confusion.

"I don't fancy her because she's smart or gorgeous. Well, that's not entirely true. I _do_ like that she can think with her own mind and she it's entirely boring. Aside from that, I just find her… quite fuckable. Imagine- "his green eyes lit up," –shagging the brains behind the bronze, one third of the Golden Trio and all that shite. Many guys fancy her only to get into her skirt. No one's had the courage to at least try because, let's be honest Princess, she's unapproachable and she's always with someone whether it be your brother, Potter or Malfoy."

 _Malfoy_ , she thought with a jolt. Suddenly, she felt startled by his less than pleasant acumen behind his attraction to the Mudblood.

"If I didn't think it was so absurd," he casted his eyes above them, trying to bring forth the right words," I think Malfoy fancies her as well. Now, that would be something to witness, or at least hear about. Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor Princess. Malfoy isn't exactly the romantic time either, Doll. He'd use her just as quickly as I would. If not, he'd get rid of her as soon as he could. At least I'd have the decency to date her for a week or two before moving onto my next target. Lavender Brown isn't a bad catch, either. Though, I've heard she's already spread her legs for Weasley. You know all too well that I don't touch used things." He winked dispassionately at her. "Remember when I took your virginity, Ginny? You were, what, in your fourth year? During the Yule Ball, I tempted you into a dance, lead you away from the oaf of a wizard Longbottom and took you out to the Black Lake and fucked you senselessly under the moonlight."

It was probably then that her demeanor changed. After being treated with such disrespect and being dumped not more than two weeks later, Ginny had confided in herself to rid the evil that had tainted her body and soul. What Cormac did to her haunted her dreams, distorted her view of the world, and sent her into madness known to no other. She hated him for he did, but she was also grateful for the experience. If she hadn't known true abuse, she wouldn't have felt the need to seek solitude and comfort from someone who would help heal her. Throwing herself at men just for a moment of release would bring others to question her morals but they needn't worry. They weren't her and she was free to do whatever she damn well pleased.

"I remember," she said coolly, remembering something that she truly would like to forget. Obliviating her would be a great option if he wasn't so dead set on making her remember for the rest of her natural life. That's just how Cormac worked; he liked to see others suffer.

He smirked," Out of all the women I've had, you were by far the sweetest." Cormac reached out and pushed back a stray hair. As he did, he leaned in and placed a kiss upon her neck. "But, as all sweet things do, they become sour." With a final kiss, he withdrew back slightly only to bite her hard on the neck. She let out a howl, which was only muted by the charm that he casted upon them after arriving to their secret location. "Ah, my dear. Quiet, or your beloved amour will hear."

Ginny shutter involuntarily as the sting of the bite filled her with the sweetest sensation. Her entire body was on high alert, waiting for him to surprise it with a love bite.

None came.

Instead, Cormac withdrew from her, chuckling as he walked around the small amount of space set before them.

An eerie silence fell upon them until Cormac decided to speak.

"I want Granger like I've never wanted anyone else. So much so that it's become my secret obsession. I can't stop thinking about her; for fuck sake's all my wet dreams nowadays are of me fucking her raw from behind or stretching her arse out with my cock. It's become a dark, sadistic fantasy of mine to claim and mark her. I want her, and not just for one night. I want her, always,"

Ginny wasn't too sickened by his insatiable appetite for the human flesh. Knowing that he felt this way towards Granger did send the wrong kinds of vibes to go through her body. Of course, Granger was wanted by most of the male population; anyone who didn't want her was either foolish or unresponsive to women. The redhead had to admit it. If she didn't harbor so much hatred for her, she would have fallen for her beauty not her physical adaptation, but the beauty of her mind and soul as well. Perhaps, that's why Blaise was so smitten by the young witch. She was innocent; Ginny was not. And, that was one of the reasons that drove her to do the unthinkable and form horrid alliances with evil.

"I'm sure you'll be getting something this little tryst." drawled Cormac dramatically to emphasize his point.

Ginny regarded him with considered ease. "Of course. Why else would I ask you to aid me in my plans if there wasn't something I want?"

It was like their two minds thought alike. A connection from sharing countless nights together throughout the years and solidified some sort of relationship with one another. Whether it was primarily sexually driven by their teenaged hormones. Eccentrically bold of them, their relationship worked through that dominance of power and strength.

"I don't know, Weasley. You've always been driven by some unknown spark. "he winked mischievously. "So long as you set your mind to it, you'll destroy anyone or anything that stands in your way."

"Oh, how incredibly dead right you are McLaggen."

A moment passed before the question of what she wanted him to do finally surfaced.

"How can I lend you my services, Red?"

Ginny smirked wildly as she exposed the true nature of her plan to her former lover.

* * *

A resounding cheer of victory caressed the air as another Bludger was tossed into one of the three loops high above them. The team let out another howl, disrupting the calm, winter night with their triumph. The Slytherins were too quick to celebrate the small victory, though. Their captain, the Malfoy heir watched from the fields, his chin pointing to the skies as his team struggled to keep up with the enchanted Quidditch balls. A known specialty of his, especially when he knew they've been drinking the previous night. If they wanted to drink themselves stupid and expect him to be lenient, then they had another thing coming. He would've been up there, maneuvering through the sky like lightning if it wasn't for the disaster that awaited him if he didn't rectify the situation know.

"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself. "Took the bastard long enough."

Above him, he could feel a disturbing presence. Of course Zabini would be worried, watching him quietly from the highest seat. Ever since that night, he hasn't let him out of his sight.

"Alright there, mate?" he asked, his black eyes capturing his.

Draco looked up but remained silent. At least he could count on Blaise for sobering up before practice. He's never seen him drink before. He highly doubted that the Italian couldn't take his liquor and if he were to drink, he had the decency to come to practice without smelling like a blazing fire.

Instead of addressing him, he turned to his team and shouted," That's enough. Locker rooms now!"

Groans filled the air as the young Malfoy heir sauntered into the locker room without another word and plopped himself down on the nearest bench. His fellow housemates soon joined him, each voicing their concerns and dreads as they too were exhausted to say much as some of them moved toward the showers while others took rest on the floor and benches. Draco couldn't very well blame them for their negative ruin; their practice didn't exactly go according to plan and it didn't meet any of the expectations that he set for his team. He was angry at their performance and even angrier at himself for allowing them to not meet up to each other individual potentials. He was a shite captain. Or, maybe, they have always been that horrible.

"That," he began, trying to keep his anger leveled," had to be the worst play I have ever seen. How do you expect us to win against Gryffindor if that's the best you can give me? What the hell is wrong with you lot?"

Several of them looked as if they were about to be hissed at by Basilisk

"Shove off, mate." one of his Beaters reprimanded. "Why tried our best. Isn't that what matters?"

"If half my team being drunk off their arses and wasted was the best then they could do," Draco growled," I'm very much like to see was exceptional performance _really_ looked like."

"One practice," the same man said with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "The game is three weeks away. We have plenty of time to shape up before then."

"Three weeks." Draco amused himself with his words. "Yes, less than two weeks to turn a group of wankers into the best team Hogwarts has ever seen in the last century. Highly probable, but we don't live in fucking imagination land. Now, tell me. What was that all about? Did you drink too much, stayed up to late? Dear fucking Salazar, someone better tell me, or I'll- "

"Malfoy, calm down."

Draco turned and glared at Zabini for speaking out of term. "Calm down?" he reiterated softly, his eyebrows drawing together in detest. Perhaps, it wasn't his team he should be mad at. He should be mad at himself for asserting his anger upon them so readily. " _Calm down_? How in bloody hell

Blaise didn't back away in the slightest at his captain's rising anger. In fact, he felt liberated to finally address the issue that would be his ultimate downfall. If he didn't control his anger, he feared that he very well be stripped of his position, or worse. He simply couldn't allow that to happen, no matter how much he tried to intimidate him.

"We tried our best, Malfoy. Your regime was a sudden change to all of us and we're not used to working this hard. At least, under the leadership of Flint he didn't drill us until our arses fall off or try to intimate us by threatening us every other second."

"Flint," he began, flashing him an evil glare," wasn't exactly known for his tactical maneuvers on the field. He failed third year and had to repeat it. I highly doubt that's the man that you all should be looking up to for inspirational guidance." He all but growled the end part. He was so damn frustrated that even the calming sensation that spread from his wrist, up his arms, and clasped his shoulder could assuage his anger. "Either get yourselves together or get the fuck off the team. I won't tolerate laziness from this day forward, provided by sheer ignorance for the game or your inability to make hangover potions."

With a visible swirl of his magic, he sent his players to race either back to the showers or out the locker room. The only one that didn't run from him was Blaise, who continued to stand his ground even after the last faucet turned off the water drained down to the ground.

Blaise never seen him so agitated and it worried him.

Cautiously, he took a step forward and almost landed square on his arse when he found that Draco had given up his seat on the bench and was standing right in front of him.

He sighed. "Look," he began, the pain evident in his eyes," I-I don't know what came over me and I just exploded. I expected more out of them and… fuck!" Draco let his magic lash out just a bit before coaxing it to calm down. "I just feel so angry…"

Blaise watched silently as Draco ran his fingers through his blonde locks. He waited, though. For the moment when it would be safe for him to walk towards him and comfort him. When he did, Draco reached out and wrapped his arms around his midriff and sighed into his abdomen. He relished in the sensation of their bodies connected so intimately. It calmed him.

"Though I can't justify your reasoning for lashing out on them, I can understand your agitation." Blaise said finally. "Talk to me."

Draco glanced up and captured his eyes. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the way he looked at him. As if he couldn't do wrong, he was able to keep his temper and allow him the time he needed to collect himself.

If it was one thing he could count on, it was Blaise's love and patience.

With his kind words, Draco buried his head into his Quidditch jersey. "I'm so sick of waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Whatever that is coming." He looked up, pushing himself slightly away from Blaise. "What's happening between us has become too much for me to bear. Any moment I fear that," he paused, gulping at the sudden realization of what he was about to confess," I fear that I won't be able to stop myself once we're together."

"I thought you had this crippling fear of uniting as one."

"I did," he told him with a smile. "Until I realized there wasn't anyone I would rather make love to than you and her."

Blaise wasn't entirely convinced that this was all he wanted to share. He felt it too. The lurking presence of something foul as it kept a close distance. Whatever it was, it was becoming a rather huge nuisance to them both. They both knew not to keep their guards down, especially ever since the incident. They still haven't confronted the conniving Gryffindor, but they plan to do so soon. The whore wasn't going to get away with harming her. Until then, they were going to keep a close eye on the girl.

"We're going to need to talk to Snape soon. Reckon he's already heard what the whore did to Hermione and we might as well prepare ourselves for the night of the Yule.

"I don't think we have to fuss about that night, Blaise."

"What makes you think that?" asked the Italian. "We haven't spoken the Snape about the incident nor have we figured out what Weasley wants with Hermione. She could be planning anything and you know what the Yule means for us."

"I know."

Draco looked up at him and asked," What are you thinking?"

There was a moment of hesitation on his part but that didn't stop him from answering his question. "I'm thinking that we need to give her our vows the night of the Yule. Otherwise, we may not have another chance to full connect with one another."

"And, you think that is wise?"

"Why wouldn't it be? The Yule is our time."

"That may be true, Blaise but that doesn't mean it's safe for us to do so. That whore can still ruin it for us, Draco. Whatever she's planning, we need to figure out and fast. Until then, I suppose we can go to Snape and prepare for the Yule."

The Malfoy heir considered this for a moment before speaking. He was very interested in how the night would play out since only one of them could ask her to attend the Party. They knew very welcomed what she was feeling, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. Her symbol was the culprit of exposing all her secrets; neither of them would have known half the things if it wasn't for the small little symbol upon her wrist.

Almost on cue, their eyes met. If it was possible for them to be thinking about the same thing, they were. Neither of them wanted her to feel neglected or underappreciated. They wanted to be there for her and take her to the Yule Party but they couldn't. At least, not all together. Before they could announce to the world of their relationship, the needed to consummate it. Under the moonlight of the winter moon, it was the only way they could do so. Their symbols were all slowly forming together as one and it was only during the winter apex that they could truly come together heart, body, and soul. But, there was something that obviously standing in their way. As it has been foretold, a connection between three would face extremities the likes of which a connection between two have ever seen. Aphrodite was an unforgiving mistress and she had her own heart set on ripping them apart. The catch is, how was she going about it.

"We need to speak to Snape as soon as possible. If what you've told me, the longer Weasley harbors these feelings towards me, the weaker she becomes and the easier the target for Aphrodite."

The blond Slytherin rose form his spot and cupped his lover's cheeks. Black met smoldering grey in a never ending battle of requited love. They've fought so hard, planned so strategically despite this wonderful finale to their endless worry. Neither of them thought they would reach this point, nor did they think it would be as wonderful as it had turned out. Grateful for this opportunity to exploit their love for one another.

"We'll go to him tomorrow. For now…" Draco leaned in and kissed him. It was chaste kiss, meant to sooth him but as their lips moved together it grew more intense. Blaise's hand came to rest on his lips and a feral growl escaped him. The aggressive git was getting turned on!

"Warning you now, mate," said Blaise," I'm not the only one on the brink of explosion."

"Maybe that's exactly what I want, Zabini," murmured Draco, trailing his lips down his neck to his collarbone. "Fuck, it's been entirely too long."

"It has."

A hiss sounded form him but his lover did not relent. Boldly, he touched the contours of his Quidditch pants and snickered soundly to himself. Blaise was indeed on the brink of exploding, and not in a good way. He wasn't about to submit to his desires when there was one little piece of them missing from the scene. They needed their girl.

"I think we should go so I can sort out this problem."

"It's probably too bold of me to suggest that we just rectify your little problem here, hmm?"

Blaise chuckled darkly. "Not if you want Hermione to feel left out. Our little princess wouldn't know what to do with two men going at it."

"Want to test the theory."

"I'll leave you alone so you can." He pushed past him whilst removing his sweater. It was hot in the locker rooms and the heat from the water still hadn't settled. Either someone had used up all the hot water or placed a very powerful heat charm inside the Slytherin pit. "That way, you'll be the one to get in trouble.

The Italian could feel his lover's eyes roam over his athletic body and images of the two of them sprawled in front of the fireplace with the last piece of their soul was all too inviting. Revengeful, Blaise shook his head and sent him a picture that truly took him by surprise.

"You have a dirty mind, Zabini," growled Draco as he too stripped himself of his clothing and tossed his shirt into his locker. A loud hiss echoed throughout the tented room. "Shite, I've got to go."

"Go where."

"Head's room. I just remembered we have a bloody test tomorrow and it completely slipped my mind. Mind if we just do a cleaning spell? At least that way Hermione will only reprimand us for not studying enough."

Blaise shrugged, digging through his locker and pulling out a dark shirt. With a wave of his wand, Draco removed all traces of their practice, leaving their skin clean and pristine. It was as if a single drip of mud touched their skin.

"I guess I can go and say hi to Hermione." He turned around with a smirk. "Thanks for telling me about the test, mate. It'll be fun to join in on her scolding since you're the only one who forgot."

With a frown, Draco rummaged through his locker, pulled out a clean shirt and pulled it over his head.

* * *

 ** _Monday, November Twelve, 1996_**

 _He arrived like a dark knight._ He scanned the room and instantly his eyes landed on her. Frightened beyond compare and equally enchanting as he remembered, Blaise was immediately entranced by the young witch that stood her ground. Posed with the grace of a queen, Hermione was the most gorgeous thing he has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. The first thing he noticed was nervousness; she was known to be strong and independently stable. For years he's thought and wished for this moment, and not that it was here, he was going to do everything in his power to make a good first impression.

"Granger," he extended a hand politely.

Hermione quickly turned to Draco, who assumed a position beside her. With an encouraging nod and a hand placed firmly on the small of her back, she turned and extended her own hand.

Blaise took her hand and brought it to his lips. He placed a gently kiss to the fingers of the hand that held her symbol and smiled.

She visibly shuttered at the unexpected way he greeted her. "Z-Zabini.

Oh, Merlin. Why did she have to be so unbelievably nervous? She couldn't allow her newly blossoming feelings for the Slytherin make her forget all the years of torment held behind those deep eyes.

"It is nice to see you again."

"Likewise," she whispered dumbly. It wasn't every day that she had the opportunity to speak to both the Princes of Slytherin. She could tell that they were thinking the same thing about her. "Shall we sit?"

He nodded stiffly. Evidently, Blaise was just as nervous as she was. Anticipating something like this had forced both their minds to turn into mush. It wouldn't be unlikely if one of them completely falter underneath the other's penetrating gaze.

Hermione sat down first, guiding her skirt so that it rest well underneath her body. Draco took a seat next to her, the distance between the quite strained. While they became comfortable on the couch, Blaise took a seat opposite of them as to allow more direct communication between them. His black eyes never once left her.

Feeling a bit more nervous than she had been, Hermione fidgeted around until a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Draco didn't say anything but nodded at Blaise who seemed to take the calming gesture the wrong way.

"I think it's time for us to all speak." said Draco with a small sigh. "We're all young adults here and there shouldn't be any reason that we can't discuss this like adults. It's a very sensitive situation and I'd like you both to express what you're feeling, if you're feeling anything at all."

She was grateful that he wasn't allowing their nervousness and childish behavior to procrastinate the conversation any further.

"Of course," came Blaise's response. Low and definitively masculine, Hermione didn't know whether to blush profusely at liking his voice and allow him to see or turn away and hide the fact that she was attracted to him. "Granger, would you like to go first?"

No, not really but she somehow found the courage to speak what was on her mind. "This is all new to me." She confessed something that they already knew. "Soulmates, connections, symbols- all of it sounds like a load of rubbish." Hermione didn't miss the hint of hurt in both their eyes; her wrist burned slightly to emphasize what she saw flash through Blaise's eyes. "As absurd as it sounds, I find myself even more mystified the deeper I delve into the subject."

Trelawney may be an old coot but the subject of soulmates became instantly fascinating to Hermione. Even though she hated the Professor, it didn't stop her from reading up on the subject from old textbooks and getting special permission to the Restricted Section of the school's library. Anything that would either validate the topic or refute it, Hermione got her hands on as much information as she possibly could before the notion that books wouldn't be able to help her. She needed to speak to the men that she shared this with and so came this night.

"Sounds very much like you, Granger." Blaise smiled. "To become so passionate with something you don't quite understand speaks to the natural inquisitor within you. You can't learn any of this in a book and to think that you came to that conclusion before you got the wrong bit of information. I have to commend you for your bravery to come to us. I really appreciate it, Hermione."

It was the first time he used her name and she found herself wanting to hear him say it more. For some strange reason, all the nervousness went away. A smile formed on her face and she knew the night would be blessedly charmed by the beginning of their union.

* * *

After a lengthy bath, Hermione was finally free from the debris that came with roaming the dirty halls from one class to another. Content with how clean she had become, she walked into her chambers and searched through her drawers for her favorite bra and knicker set. Sitting untouched on her dark red sheets was Draco's sweater. She fully intended to surprise him by wearing it and she knew that he would most definitely enjoy the gesture. As innocent as it looked, she hoped it would be taken the wrong way.

"Why would it?' she asked herself as she dried her hair with her wand and tossed her towel into the laundry basket. "He'll love it."

With that motivation, Hermione found the set she was looking for.

Smiling, she tossed the mauve set onto the bed while she wrestled her hair into submission. Fifteen minutes later, she was able to make her hair lay flat against her back. After pulling it into a low ponytail, Hermione turned her attention to the matching lace bra and knickers that she had bought not too long ago. During a trip to Hogsmeade, Lavender convinced her to buy it during their routine girl's day out to the little village. Far from the experienced witch, Hermione eventually bought the set along several others. Though it would be a long time before either of her boys would see her without clothing, she still wanted to feel like a girl and what girl wouldn't want to indulge themselves. Even if it was to make themselves feel more feminine.

Hermione exhaled deeply, her finger tips touching the lace bra before picking it up. She got dressed quickly, but not before she took a look at the full sized mirror in the corner of the room.

Stunned by how she looked, she almost dropped Draco's sweater.

She didn't know that she had such nice curves! Never did she imagine that her body looked as incredible or sexy as it did. Granted, she wore baggy clothes and hid her body seeing that wasn't appropriate behavior for a young woman do. Stunned be the revelation, she continued to explore her newly found body. Roaming her hands up and down her waist, Hermione discovered that she was gifted with curves that any girl would be jealous of, an arse that any guy would love to squeeze, and a nice bust that she used to loath when she was on the verge of blossoming into the woman that she was now. Hermione could honestly say she's never felt this extravagant in her entire life.

 _More than extravagant,_ a little voice told her.

Hermione almost giggled at hearing their voices. Leave it to her boys to try to get a glimpse into her mind. Like them, she was fairly gifted in closing her mind from them. She heard them protest until the connection between their minds became silent. With a delightful laugh, she moved to her bed and put on Draco's sweater without a remorseful thought.

Her princes loved to tease her, so why couldn't she tease them?

Content with her decision, she made her way to the common room dressed only in his sweater. Grabbing a book from her dresser, she left her chambers. A blissful smile played on her reflection's face as she watched the original witch stroll away.

After some time in the common room it became apparent that their practice would run later than expected. Hermione, having read her favorite book countless times, found not comfort in the ancient tome of text. With a sigh, she placed her book onto the coffee table and inclined back against the soft, fluffy pillows. She had ditched her usual spot and summoned a motley of pillows to arrange themselves like a giant bed upon the floor. Deep purple throws and velvet sheets were tossed about irregularly to resemble one of those lovely bohemian beds. Provided by the freedom the floor could only bring, she allowed her imagination to flourish and come up with this romantic setting that she was sure that her boys would both love. She even went as far as charming Draco's sweater, too. A secret she was going to keep to herself until they accidently stumble upon the enchantment.

A soft giggle escaped her. Who knew that finding and believing in oneself could lead to this? Oh, what a feeling! She felt as one with them as she should have been from the start and all thanks to opening to them first. She was convinced that she wasn't good enough for either of them, but she was mistaken. She was good for them. Hermione felt it in her heart.

Sounded ignited from the other side of the portrait but she ignored it. Once again, the school was restless with activity; Hermione wasn't one for wandering the corridors late at night or sneaking into the kitchens as the twins have done so many times during their school years at Hogwarts so she couldn't sympathize with them at all. She would never understand anyone's fascination with breaking the rules or running around like a maniac when they could very well be caught. Oh well, with a penchant for rule breaking, anyone would find it worthwhile.

Hermione turned onto her stomach and sighed blissfully. Whatever enchantment she put on the pillows was doing a wonder on her anxieties. With charms like these, one could very easily fall asleep…

A loud bang sounded from the other side and she heard deep, argumentative voices.

"Bloody hell! Let us in!"

"Do you know how late it is?" the portrait hissed at the intruders.

A muffled hiss came forth from one of them and instantly she knew who the intruders were. "I'm Head Boy! You've got to let me in."

"I am very much aware of that Mr.-"

"Malfoy." Draco hissed unpleasantly. "Now, let us in or I'll- "

"You'll what," she taunted, no doubt frowning at his outburst. "Alright, I'll let you two in but don't think I'll let you in next time you're out past curfew."

Draco mumbled something about practice as the portrait swung open. Hermione didn't bother getting up as he was distracted and angry about the portrait not allowing him passage the first time he uttered the password.

"I swear that bloody portrait has it out for me," he hissed, taking no time to dump his gear onto the nearest sofa.

From where she lay, she could see Blaise's eyes roaming the entire landscape of the common room. When his eyes landed on her, she felt it through the symbol rather seeing it for herself. She turned away in time to find his childish behavior a little too redeeming; he was always overreaction about something and she would rather not witness another one of his silly little meltdowns, especially if it was because a portrait forgot who he was. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. Good thing Blaise was the more sensible one, or this whole relationship would be entirely out of proportion.

Hermione didn't realize she had let out a moan until it was almost too late.

They turned to find their witch sprawled amongst the multi-colored sheets and pillows in the most compromising position. Their eyes roamed over their witch carefully. Her legs were propped up and a flash of her mauve knickers flashed them teasingly beneath the charmed sweater; her breasts rose with each anticipated breath; her eyes, Gods her eyes were the deepest hue of auburn they've ever seen and as she laid there, waiting for them to join her in the rippling sheets of darkness, they turned another shade darker.

As she stretched again and sat up, a pair of strong arms encircled her and pulled her flush against a hard body. Another pair of arms wrapped around her midriff, effectively pinning her between them. Lips crashed violated into her and they were all overcome by senseless desire to become one. Blaise's dark hand moved soundless up her legs, tugging the sweater up as Draco pushed her back against him and spread her legs. The beautiful scent of her arousal hit them both with full force, causing the men's cocks to harden instantly at the onslaught of her sweetness.

"So fucking beautiful," murmured Draco as his lips contoured to the smoothness of her legs.

Blaise's lips made contact with her neck and she buckled against him, whimpering as he kissed the spot again.

"Yes," she whispered, arching her back off of his chest. All the sensation that was flowing through her made it damn near impossible to concentrate. "Please, Draco…" She moaned once he granted her what she so desperately wanted.

He placed his hands on her knees and said in a low, demanding whisper," Lean back against him."

Hermione leaned more comfortably against Blaise's hard chest, settling herself in as she was instructed to. Draco pushed her knees apart, his eyes making contact with hers.

"Tell us, Granger. Have you ever masturbated?" He asked against her left knee. Draco gave it a quick kiss before pulling away. Though they knew the answer, he still wanted her to tell them.

She stared into his silver eyes, a blush rising to her cheeks and spreading quickly across her face and neck.

"It's okay, Cara." Blaise planted a gentle kiss to her neck. "You can tell us."

Struggling to find her voice, Hermione squirmed in Blaise's arm as she watched Draco stroke her knee patiently. She had no other choice but to be compliant.

Taking a deep breath in, she found her courage and told them," Yes," before adding a shaking," but, I've never been able to… to…"

"Cum." Blaise offered breathlessly in her ear.

She nodded. "Yes."

Draco rubbed her kneecaps. "It's okay, love." He scraped his sharp teeth against the inside of her knees. "We'll teach you what pleasure is."

Hermione whimpered as she watched Draco dip his head between her thighs. She gasped, feeling his lips make contact with her skin. Threading her fingers into his platinum hair, she moaned her encouragement, thrusting herself back against Blaise's hard chest.

"That's it, Cara." He murmured in her ear. "Feel him. Let him pleasure you."

She shook with pleasure at his words and Draco's loving ministrations. Gods, it never felt this good when she touched herself; there was always something missing or off whenever she tried to. It was as if she didn't know her body as well as she thought she did. But, Draco knew. Blaise knew as well.

Hermione spread her legs wider as she felt Draco spray his fingers across her thighs, marveling at the color of her knickers.

"Though I love these knickers, Granger I'm afraid they must go." His voice was laced with abandoned desire. "First, he lifted himself up, eyeing them both as a grin forced its way on his face. "I want to relish in your soft flesh."

Before she could get the first three letters out, he pushed himself against her and kissed her hard on the lips. She gasped, allowing him to plunder her sweet cavern of a mouth with his tongue. While he worked to taste her, Blaise's hands roamed over the curves of her hips and waist, ran up the length of her torso to cup her covered breasts with his large hands. The Italian swore ineloquently under his breath.

"Fuck, Hermione," her symbol burned with the intensity of a roaring fire. "I am at awe with you and your body."

"Isn't she lovely?" Draco pulled away from her to ask him. "Too many close. Must feel all of you, love."

Hermione couldn't express her approval as he had kissed the breath out of her. Whimpering, she allowed the fair-haired Slytherin to pull her up for a moment. Blaise continued to explore her torso with his hands. Every once and a while his hands would delve underneath the lace strip placed neatly on her hips, teasing the overly sensitive are of her body. She absolutely loved the way their hands felt on her; they were so perfectly in sync, yet their ministrations were all their own.

"Please," she begged as they mercilessly explored her before pulling their sweater of her body. Sweat lingered upon her open flesh; consumed by the fire that had ignited between them, her boys wasted no time in tasted her salty, sweet flesh. Hermione grabbed for Draco's shirt and he took the hint to rid himself of his clothing as well as Blaise's. With one silent word, the Slytherins were completely naked, their bodies pressed hard against hers as to allow her to feel their erections and lean muscle. They were just as gluttonous for her as she was for them. Unlike them, she's never been able to explore the wanders of the human body and could only guess at how truly magnificent a sensation could do to hers.

She threw her head back as she felt someone's hands cup her breasts once again, pulling the cups of her bra to expose her supple bust to the cold, wintry night air. Despite the stifling fire roaring in front of them, her rose buds grew taunt, welcoming a pair of lips to suckle upon them like a newborn babe. Hermione was encouraged to lean back against Blaise again. This time, hands pulled down the straps of her knickers, over her hips and down her legs. Just as she settled comfortably on top of Blaise's chest, Draco leaned in and placed gentle kisses to her knees.

"I'm going to taste you, Hermione." he forewarned her. "I'm going to taste this sweet pussy of yours."

His dirty words were emphasized threefold.

Spreading her legs, Draco allowed his eyes to roam over her flat stomach before reaching the apex of her sex. Bare, plump lips with a well-trimmed crown greeted him. Pure fresh flesh awaited his greedy mouth. He lowered himself so he lay flat on his stomach, her legs angled on either side of his shoulders. With his thumbs, he spread open her lower lips apart. Cool air hit her clit, causing her to arch her back off Blaise's chest and shutter in utter anticipation. Draco's tongue licked from the opening of her maidenhood to the tip of her sweet clitoris She jerked at the sudden touch.

"Shh…" Blaise continued to whisper soothingly to her. His hands rubbed her sides, skimming the curve of her perky breasts. Long fingers brushed against her sensitive nipples.

It was incredible how two completely different people could deliver such powerful, earth-shattering pleasure to her. They worked beautifully together as Draco continued to taste, lick, and suck on her inner folds and lick her nub while Blaise worked her nipples to taunt peaks, pinching and rubbing them as he murmured into her ear. His lips worked her neck, finding all the delectable spots in which to elicit the most wondrous moans.

Draco pulled himself from her quivering core to say," Blaise, you must taste her."

He shifted slightly behind her. "Oh?" He inquired.

His blonde-haired companion chuckled as he removed himself from her knees and slithered up Hermione's body. Just when she thought she would be pulled into a fiery kiss, one that would allow her to taste herself as well, Draco cupped Blaise's cheek and stared intently into his eyes. A moment passed and sweet moans of two men filled her ears.

Gasping softly as their hot, steamy breaths fanned her neck, she struggled against the powerful hold Blaise had on her. She could hear the pull of their lips, the soft moans of delight emanating from their chests, and feel their hot breath on her neck.

Draco pulled away, the silver fire of his lust flaring deep within his eyes. He stared at Blaise before smirking.

"Delicious." Blaise licked the corner of his mouth before bringing Hermione into a searing, dominating kiss. "Let's make our girl, shall we Malfoy?"

Draco chuckled at his authoritative stance. "Of course. Let's show our witch what true pleasure really is."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well? What did y'all think? Can I deliver a love scene or what? I will edit it fully tomorrow as stated above. I may include a little bit more, but we do have chapter eleven to look forward to. Now, they wont' have sex but this is a time when they'll all start exploring each other's bodies and, well, let's just wait to the next chapter! Hope y'all enjoyed it :)_

 _Until later._

 _Bye!_


	12. 12

_Fully edited, as promised. My beta did not edit this, though. I did in her place. I haven't been in contact with her, but I'm not giving up! She has done an amazing job thus far, but sometimes RL gets in the way. Instead, I will take responsibility (As I should) to make sure it's edited before publishing. Even if that means publishing without editing and promising to post an updated version a bit later._

 _Amazing News: This story is going to be translated to Germen really really soon. Imagine my surprise when I got a PM from a silent review/follower asking for my permission to translate this work. I was flabbergasted, y'all. I felt like shit Tuesday, but she/he instantly brightened up my day. I'm beyond thrilled that people have taken the time to read it, despite the myriad of mistakes in some chapters, but to have someone extend that invitation? Oh, my brightly colored horseshoes! (Not a southern saying, lol). I'm blessed with the support and reviews I have now. I would have been perfectly content if I only got 60-70 reviews by the time this was done but- gosh, no words!_

 _I'll keep y'all updated. :) I'd like to share the reviews I get if that's okay with y'all._

 _I did add just a bit here and there. Next chapter will be a dream sequence, so watch out for that._

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _There are two fanfictions I'm looking for. (I only have descriptions):_

 _1). Lucius x Severus x Hermione- sort of like a soul mate, triad one where they make love during the last chapter. (As to allow them to figure out if they want the relationship or not) Very short fic, but I wanted to re-read it. I normally fav/follow it but of course I didn't._

 _2). Draco x Hermione- Marriage law; where they marry sometime near Christmas._

 _As always, enjoy!_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Eleven_

 _A close joining_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Monday December sixteenth, 1996**

 **Head's room**

Draco hovered over the beautiful witch, his eyes lingering on every inch of her perfect form. Anticipation for what has yet to come exuded her. Hermione watched with hardened eyes as her Slytherins moved over and around her, to their own unique movements. Spellbound by their coordination, she found it even harder to concentration on their individual touches and ministrations. Her mind blurred as her body heightened to their growing sensation between her legs. She's touched herself before in the past, but never has she come this closing to breaking. She felt the shattering touches of their hands long before they reached their destinations. Like a lick of a flame, it consumed her as the heat grow to alarmingly high levels. Something was building up and powerfully so. Truly, she didn't know what that meant since she was never able to achieve it. As her mind finally cleared up, she was able to understand what they wanted to do to her.

Draco's lips kissed the inside of her knees. Slowly, he slithered down so he rested between her thighs. She opened up to him, providing enough room for him to settle down comfortably. Planting another kiss to her knee, he looked up before pulling away from her quivering core to bring her into a kiss. It was heated, full of need and passion that couldn't summon itself until this night. Their lips brushed over one another's; he leaned more into her, tilting his head as to allow him to deepen the kiss, to taste more of her.

"The things you've done to us, Princess." he practically growled. "Do you know how hard it was for us to not go to you and fuck you?"

She shook her head, shaking from his sudden and brusque change in demeanor. She knew that they wouldn't take her fully; this was only a taste as to what their sex life would entail. Gods, she didn't know whether to love his words or loathed them because she wasn't used to them and didn't understand their hidden meaning. What did he mean by what he said?

"You've touched yourself, our naughty little minx." Came Blaise's addition. "We could feel it through our symbols and every time you hot, little hands came to caress your skin, our bodies immediately submitted to your touch."

A slender finger stroked her clit in feathery light touches. She jerked, moaned, and slammed into Blaise's chest, nearly taking his breath from him.

" _Malfoy_ ," he hissed, his dark eyes ablaze with anger. "Nothing too bold or you'll find yourself holding her still as _I_ taste her."

The blonde chuckled daringly. "Now, don't be irrational, Zabini. We'll both be able to taste her and have our fill before the night is through."

A finger grazed her sensitive nub and she bucked back, hard. Blaise's hand came to rest warningly on her hips, stilling her as Draco licked along her lips and outer folds. Hermione let out a slow shutter; her eyes rolled back as her lower lip became numb by the steady abuse she gave it. As Draco's tongue swirled teasingly around her swollen clit, Blaise moved her curls away from her neck and began whispering lustrous words in her ear.

"Do you like that, Cara? The way his tongue sweeps over your little clit, his fingers probing your unsullied quim?"

Without knowing it, she was nodding. As he spoke, Draco did just that. His finger found her entrance and carefully he began to fuck her with a single finger. Curling and unfurling, he guided his finger deeper until it unexpectedly reached the sweetest part within her body.

"Oh!" she cried, panting heavily as he hit the spot again. "Y-yes, right there. _Right_ there!"

"Waited so long to become undone." He whispered to her still. "Feel us, Cara. Feel us."

During the throngs of her demanding cries, Blaise had relinquished his hold on her hips. His hand slide down the curve of her outer thigh until two fingers pressed against her clit, joining Draco's lips and tongue. By this time, Hermione was a mess. Her hair was thrown wildly about her lover's chest, her eyes were drawn close, her mouth open wide. A kiss was planted upon the corners of her quivering mouth. White exploded before her and sprinkled down upon her. Draco's fingers continued to fuck her as his lips fought in an old tuneless dance with Blaise's fingers.

"Tell us you like it," growled Blaise, his free hand cupping her breast and squeezing the soft flesh. Hermione could feel his erection press against her arse at the sight of her slowly becoming unhinged. "Fuck, baby. Please come for us."

She was drowning and climbing steadily to her ultimate end. Something strange began to build up inside her as her lover's continued to tease and torment her with their gentle, yet demanding passion. The sensation built until, suddenly, she found herself tumbling over the pinnacle of ecstasy. Hot liquid gushed from her abused core. Blaise held onto her tightly as Draco continued to suckle upon her nub, prolonging her first orgasm. Thrown into the sky, reaching for the stars, she didn't settle down until the Slytherins pulled away from her, both looking down at her with cynical eyes.

She panted, eyeing them through hooded eyes. "What… was that?" she questioned. "I- it felt like I was on fire."

Draco's eyes traveled to her wrist. It burned hot and remained so; she could definitely go for another round. There was still so much to teach her.

"It was your first orgasm."

Hermione blushed profusely. Gods, the things they said and did to her. "M-my first…"

"First of many." The blonde-haired Slytherin said. "Blaise has yet to taste you, my love."

The witch watched the dark-skinned wizard move closer to her. There was an air of hesitance, but with the smoldering desire Draco had shown. His eyes had darkened considerably and now were an endless void of black.

Without warning, the Italian pushed her up against the mountain of pillows, palming her breasts in both his hands. A moan escaped her as he planted kisses along her clavicle, dipped his tongue in the hallowed crevice, down her sternum and finally her breasts. His well-practiced fingers circled her hips. His head dipped below and his mouth caught one of her rosy nipples. His tongue swirled around the areola, his teeth grazing ever so slightly over the nipple before delivering the most deliciously hard bite to the tender flesh. Hermione gasped, her nails digging into his scalp as his tongue lapped up and soothed the sting. She was on the verge of another explosive orgasm, she knew and if Blaise didn't stop tormenting her with his teasing, she was afraid that she would either explode or do something drastic to get what she wanted.

"You're so beautiful, Granger. Did you know that?" Draco said from the sidelines.

She shook her head. Obviously not. No one has ever told her that, much less see her fully naked.

Her lover came around, his neglected cock proudly hitting his stomach. His hand came up and grasped the hard flesh and he pumped himself several times. Hermione stared at him. Gods, he was beautiful. She was sure that he knew but didn't care to know from anyone other than her or Blaise. Draco and Blaise were stunning, even more so in the light of the fire, in the middle of the night. They screamed Greek Gods, and true to their house, the Slytherin Princes set her heart alight. If someone had told her that she would eventually fall for them when she was younger, she would have laughed her silly little arse off. The mere thought of them being the focus of her attraction was hilarious; yet, here she was. Fully undressed, her hair falling around her like a halo, her body exposed to them, leg wide open, and her sex almost touching the wonderful extension of her lover's body. She was completely at their mercy.

"Your body just sings to us like nothing else has. So responsive, so delectably," He drew a single line from one corner of his bottom lip to the other and whispered," perfect. Truly, you are the most beautiful thing of creation."

He smiled just as Blaise ran his hands down her sides to her waist. His lips met her neck and she arched blissfully into his chest.

In the corner of her eye, Hermione could make out Draco's sitting form. He was inclined back against the pillows, his eyes trained on them. Every now and then, they dipped to look her in the eyes while pumping his cock in long, hard strokes. Her mouth actually watered at the sight of him. All she could invasion herself doing was sucking on his impressive member while stroking his sizable balls as Blaise caressed her flesh. How were they going to fit inside her? As a blushing virgin, she knew nothing about sex besides that a girl's first time hurt. How was she supposed to enjoy it if all she'll feel is the pain? Either her girlfriends over-exaggerated, or a girl's first time isn't as bad as they initially made it out to be.

"Oh, Blaise," she hummed when his lips dipped into the hallow of her clavicle once more. Shuttering, she ran her hands up and down his sides, mimicking what he had done earlier. When her hands found his narrow waist, her Gryffindor courage came forth.

Her hands must have caught him off guard because the moment her fingers brushed the head of his penis, he jerked and both boys moaned.

"Fuck!" Blaise began to swear in his native tongue. When he finally calmed down, he grabbed her face and kissed her brutally. "Do that again, little girl, and I'll show you how your prince _really_ teases his girl."

A dark chuckle interrupted them. "I warned you, Zabini. She doesn't take too kindly to waiting." Draco told him. "Should I be the one to give her next release?"

"You doubt my abilities?" hissed Blaise, playfully. "By all means, go ahead, Malfoy. Just a fair warning when it comes for the moment to taste your flesh. Then, you'll truly know what it means to be teased."

"What the hell do you mean?" he narrowed his eyes, threateningly.

The wizard let out a cynical laugh. "I know all your dirty, little secrets, Malfoy."

"As yours, I'm sure, "agreed Draco, jeeringly.

"Should I be the one to tell her, or should be let our witch explore and find them herself? All to but whisper a few words would be your undoing."

Draco held his gaze for what seemed like severely long stretch of time. When he finally broke the silence, he said," Well, we'll just have to test the theory, hmm?"

Draco appeared to not like the idea of her seducing him, and as he changed positions with Hermione, he seemed even more overwhelmed with the idea.

"Don't you dare, Zabini." He warned. "It's one thing to give her pleasure, but for her to feel pleasure between _us_ …"

He trailed off and Blaise immediately picked back up. "It'll be intense, sure but it'll also be a learning experience, too." The wizard suddenly grinned. "Besides, there's something that I need to prove and instill into your body once again. It seems that you're under the impression that I'm not up to part with my abilities to pleasure you and I just can't have that."

Hermione rolled over carefully and caught Draco's eye. He gave her a gentle smile before turning his attention back to the hovering figure above them.

Tall, dark and intensely predatory, Blaise lowered himself to Draco with prized deliberation. His movements were slow, his touches soft yet demandingly brutal. From that, Hermione could tell he was holding back, He was so used to be the one in control and to have to hold back just to make sure she was comfortable was killing him.

"It's okay," she smiled, bringing her lips to rest on his chest. "I can handle feeling the both of you."

Blaise's hand steadied him as he calmed himself down. "Oh, Cara…You don't know what you're getting into.

Even Draco groaned at her words.

"Come here, Granger." Came her prince's voice.

With a newly found assertiveness, Hermione obeyed Draco's order and came over to him. His steel grey eyes followed her as she leaned toward him. He didn't say a word as his hands came to cup her breasts. Licking his lips, he dipped down and ran his tongue across her chest. She arched her back and held back a moan. This was some sort of test, she was sure. He wanted to see if she was up to the challenge that they were both anxious of her to perform. She could feel Blaise moving behind her, feel his erection press against her back. Gods, these two had true gifts of nature. Again, she had to hold back a moan as his hand urged her to lean forward.

"Open your legs." Commanded her dark prince.

She did as she was told and was rewarded with his fingers brushing ever so lightly along her lower lips.

"Already so wet," he hissed. "Does the idea of this turn you on, Cara?"

Hermione nodded, leaving it to their imagination to bring forth the explicit material images that would soon invade her mind. Warm hands gripped her hips, forcing her lower body to rise into the air. She felt terribly vulnerable, open, and sexually penurious. Heat rose to her cheeks at the single thought of being so open to the Slytherin behind her. Not that he minded her vulnerability. Hermione was commanded to come forward.

"Come closer." Draco's voice was singed with desire. "Good girl. Now, answer him."

"Y-yes."

"Which part of this drives you absolutely mad?"

A single finger grazed her hip and she wet her lips. "All of it."

Hermione cried out loudly and Blaise's lips immediately came to swallow her cries while his finger worked vigorously to bring her to another release. Draco watched patiently at his lover's determination to prove himself more than capable of making love. Of all nights, he managed to rile him up to a disastrous reach. This was the intensity he needed, the push, the drive to bring them closer than they had been weeks prior to this night. Even if they both figured it out before the night's end, Draco was exceedingly pleased with the development between all three of them. Although they were not going to fully consummate their relationship and deliver their vows, they at least had this night to bring them all together. Before winter's end, they would be together. The first of many vows, he knew with his heart that he had found what he was searching for and he was not letting it go. No matter who or what got in the way.

"Ple-please." she begged, throwing her head back against Blaise's chest. "I c-can't…"

"Answer me, beautiful." Begged Blaise. "Does this satisfy you? Being a part of us and the glory of our union."

"Yes!" she excelled with projection. "It satisfies me!"

Blaise growled and pushed her forcefully forward. As she rested on Draco, her breasts pushed up against his hard chest, the Slytherin behind her continued to work her into a sweet crescendo. Shaking from the prolonged forum of her release, she nodded frantically as Draco worked her clit. A wonderful sensation began to build up again in her lower tummy. Coiling up tightly and steadily, she wondered fleetingly just how long she would last before she would be given the release she so desperately wanted.

"It satisfies us both, too Cara." Blaise cooed into her ear. "Being able to give you pleasure, to make you see what we see, feel what we feel. What do you feel, baby? Tell us what you feel."

"Oh, Gods." The corners of her eyes began to water. "I- I'm going to- "

"Come for me, Cara." he bid her. "Drench my hand with your cum!"

Hermione fell forward, her legs almost on either side of Draco's waist. Blaise continued to work her sex; from the sensation deep within his lower stomach and balls, he knew that their witch was fast approaching her second release. If they couldn't get her to feel the highs of another orgasm, the fire that was building fast inside their bodies would inevitably extinguish before they got their entire fill of her.

"That's right, baby." Draco coaxed, transfixed at the sight before him. He's never seen anything so brilliant. They way Blaise moved and the sound of Hermione's moans nearly sent him right over the edge. If it wasn't for him neglecting his own release and focusing on her, he would have found himself lost in his own desire without having meaning to. He wanted to wait and that's exactly what he was planning on doing. They would fall together or not at all. "Come for us. Spray your juices all over our bodies." With two fingers, he rubbed her nub vigorously until her eyes glossed over and she let out a pleasantly loud moan.

Their witch gave one last, mute scream before arching her back and falling completely forward. Her cum sprayed all over Blaise's hand and coated Draco's thighs. Shaking from her violent release, she looked up and locked eyes with Draco. He stared at her until a smile grew from pleasing her.

"If you could see how beautiful you looked right now, Hermione."

She blushed, tried to lift herself off of him but failed. His arms came around and found home on her lower back. He let out a satisfying sigh, having helped achieve what they had set out to do.

"Was that intense for you, Malfoy?"

"You nearly killed her," he growled. "What the hell were you thinking?"

The Italian laughed darkly before trailing his gaze down to his companion's neglected cock. It would take a while for their princess to recuperate. For the mean time, it would be best for them to rest until they all could come together.

"Let her rest." He told him. "She's exhausted and if we're going to finish the night together we're going to have to let her rest."

Blaise moved his hand from her sex. Giving it a look, he brought his fingers to his lips, stuck out his tongue and gave each of his fingers a long, hard suck.

Draco nodded, placing both of his hands securely on her back. She was a sleep. Her even breaths soothed and scared him. If it was one thing, he couldn't comprehend was her ability to close herself off to them when she wanted to. Was it because they hadn't fully come together and made their vows? He was sure that once their bodies became one and their souls reunited, they would be able to share more than just a single night of exploring their fervent desire and the passion born from their unity.

It was a little past midnight when she regained consciousness. Fully sedated from the explanatory delivery of her lover's, Hermione slowly lifted herself up and gazed down upon her Slytherins. She had been curled up between them with Draco below her and Blaise right behind her. They both looked so peaceful whilst they slept. Their bodies soon molded into one and she wondered just how long it would take for them to realize that she was not there. Regardless of the time, she planned to get them back for not easing her from one release to another. They obviously wasted no time. Even if their intentions were pure at heart, she found it highly unfair that she wasn't able to give them anything in return. This fueled her even more to learn their bodies as they have learned hers.

Hermione reached out and tugged a strand of blonde locks behind Draco's ear. He stirred slightly, but otherwise remained perfectly still and content. She let her thoughts wander again to another place. She briefly questioned what she did to deserve them. After years a childish raillery and being picked on by them, they had grown to exceptional young men. With lean, muscled bodies from years of playing Quidditch to their more than impressive anatomy, she couldn't believe that boys like them existed. Intelligent, caring, and passionate men that had almost suddenly became her lovers. It was a hard thing to accept, let alone comprehend. She knew it would be hard, but she was determined to make other's see their unity was not a freak of nature but a beautiful thing to behold.

Carefully, she moved away. Her boys stirred a little but did not make a move to wake up. With a smile, she got up from the decorative nest of their love and walked over to where the door to the bathroom stood.

The idea came to her like a sudden, warm breeze. As plain as their shared bathroom was, her mind conjured up an image that would excite them all. Giggling, she set out to create what her heart wanted and breathe life to the desire of her soul.

They laid suspended for a time. Each surrounded by the clouds of their fortune and perceptive need to align as one. As they slept, their bodies and souls came together; their hearts found their way toward the same untaken road before they became eternally connected. As they slept, something they felt was missing. Noticing this strange spectacle, their eyes fluttered open and they embarked to find their missing piece.

Blaise woke first. The first thing he noticed was not the starlit sky or the hovering ball that was the moon that hung suspended in the air. No, the first thing we noticed was that their witch was missing. He sat up too quickly and his surrounding tilted dangerously to the left and right as he tried to steady himself. Where had she run off to? He couldn't help the anger that rose naturally from the deepest part of his body. If the witch was playing some sort of game, he was intent of finding her and _showing_ her what kind of game he could play. Just as he was about to stand, a hand caught his wrist. He looked down to find Draco staring up at him. Through the light fire of the candles, he could see the worry playing in his eyes as he was sure was playing in his.

"She isn't far." He told him, rising to stand.

Blaise helped him stand. "How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not," he confessed with a laugh. "But, what I said still stands. You need to stop worrying so much and trust in your symbol. They can never do wrong when we've lost someone we love."

The taller Slytherin didn't look convinced. Three years of knowing that she was his, Draco had knowledge that exceeded his. Though, his realization came only less than a year later, Blaise still felt that he should be able to pick up on more than he was generally allowed to see and know.

"Come on," Draco nudged his shoulder with his," let's go find our witch."

The Slytherins left the refuge of their little nest, following the sensation that tingled their wrist. Unashamed by their nudeness, they ventured toward the bathroom where Draco was sure that their witch resided. It took several long seconds for Blaise to sense it as well; his companion waited patiently, almost methodically as he too became to feel the treacherously sinful escape of their witch as the water of her hard labor cascaded down her back. Her hair was wet, her body soaked and covered with scented suds. She had just finished transfiguring the small bathroom. Images of what she had created did not flash before them, as they blocked it out from their minds as to surprise themselves.

"Daring little witch," murmured Blaise. "We might have to keep a better eye on her, Draco."

"Yeah?" agreed the Malfoy heir. "I agree wholeheartedly. If she's going to be ours, we're going to have to set some ground rules. It's not easy being the lover of a Slytherin but she has two succumbing to her every call and whim."

The Italian chuckled. "Oh, yes. She does."

"Oh, how temptation catches us all," he drawled, reaching for the door handle. "Shall we?"

With a nod, Draco opened the door and he stepped in. Blaise soon followed and they both stood, marveling at the picturesque bathroom that had been charmed by their witch.

Drawn in golden liquid, the faucets came to them in blistering bright light, filling the large tub that housed more than enough of space to swim full laps around the room. The limited grooves and bushes that scattered the room was occupied with little orbs of growing light that danced and twirled around them as they passed. The further they ventured, they more enthralled they became. Who knew that their witch could create something so elegant yet simple? Their hearts were lit alight as they turned into a short enclave and saw her for the first time since their joining.

She stood underneath a small lavender colored waterfall. Encased by pure silk, Hermione's form came into creation from the heavy clouds that surrounded her temple. Her hair, drenched in water, was matted to her back and formed perfectly to the contours of her body. Although completely oblivious to their presence, she knew that they were close. Hermione turned, giving them both full access to her exposed body. Her perfect breasts were hidden beneath her dark hair as were part of her hips. While she twirled around like the water nymph that she was. She brought her hands to stomach and rubbed whatever lotion that she had on her hands. Over her hips, up her stomach and sternum, her hands finally came to rest on her chest where she paid close attention to her sensitive flesh. She let out a shuttering moan before opening her eyes. She smiled before willing them to join her.

Blaise was the first to enter the waters. With encouragement, he submerged himself completely into the sweetly scented baths before swimming over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She giggled as he twirled her around and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Missed us, love?" He twirled her around once more.

An enchanted smile graced her features as another set of arms joined them.

Draco came behind her. "We missed you."

Their Princess flattered them with a sensual gasp. "Oh, Gods." Then, she giggled.

Their hands moved over her hips. With each slow caress, her pants grew a little bit louder. It wasn't long until they had her leaning over the edge of the tilted bath with her legs spread apart and her arse in the air.

"Like that?" Draco leaned over and whispered.

"Y-yes!" she panted as Blaise's finger entered her quim. "Pl-please n-no more."

"Begging, are we?"

"Maybe this will teach you not to cross us," Draco attacked her neck with open mouthed kisses. His tongue flicked her jugular before moving down her neck and chest. Both of his hands cupped her breasts, his lips seeking her sore peaks. She arched into him almost submissively. When she finally came, her voice echoed throughout the room, dying down just seconds later.

She laid her head against the cold tile, panting. Closing her eyes, she tried to catch her breath but was made suddenly aware of the movement behind her. Frightened about what the Slytherins could do, Hermione quickly stood and turned. Caught with fatigue, she stumbled a little and was caught by Blaise.

"Easy, there."

Draco came behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Kissing her neck, he whispered," How was that, love?"

She whimpered a little, unable to form the words to express the things that they were capable of doing to her. Their hands moved over her again and somewhere deep down, she found the strength to stop them.

Placing a hand on each of their chests, she was able to hold them off long enough to push them against the edge of the bath. She delivered a soft, tentative kiss to them before pulling away slightly and gazing up into their eyes. Clouded by desire, they watched their witch as they held back entirely.

"Release us, witch," threatened her taller wizard.

She looked up at them innocently," Release you from what?"

"Your hold." Growled the other.

Hermione smirked at them in that amazing way they've come to love. "I will. Once you find me."

Their eyes narrowed threateningly. They were in no mood for little games but when their lion was ready to play a friendly round of hide and seek, they were reluctant to join in on the fun. The Slytherins gave her enough of time. While she swam to the other end of the tub, her hold on them lessened. Eventually, they were able to move on their own without her powerful grip keeping them from finding her too soon.

"Find her," the Malfoy heir commanded. The strong hold that she had on them could still be felt as they exited the bathing area and searched for their missing witch. The sun may have gone down long before this moment, but the night had just begun. "Find her, and bring us back together."

The dark Slytherin heeded his companion's order. With the agility of a majestic lion, they set out to find her. Through the extinguished darkness that held their nest, they roamed the common room until they came face to face with Hermione's covered form. She had gathered one of the silk blankets and was lying on the floor, waiting as if an offering to the Gods. She was moaning again, but this time neither of them was touching her. Thrown to exquisite torture, Hermione was writhing to her own melody. Her hands, as they had done in the baths, were mapping her body with careful touches. With every heavy pant, her body became hotter, ignited by the fire that consumed them all just hours ago. If she were fire, it was her turn to play with the abundant giver of light. Their bodies would become her instruments.

"Come here," she bade, her eyes combing over the room before landing on their exposed forms.

Captured by her beauty, they walked forward until they were kneeling before her, both tense as her magic played with theirs. They waited. Seconds passed before turning into full minutes before her hot little hands came to rest on both their chests. Gathering that it was her favorite spot, the Slytherins placed one of their hands on each of hers. The witch looked up and smiled. A daring, inspirational little flash but all the more exciting. While she released Blaise from her hold, Hermione stepped forward and willed Blaise to lie on his back. His head rested on a purple throw pillow. Hermione moved over him, her small breasts pressed tightly against his chest. She kissed him softly on the lips before moving down and over his chin and neck. As she slowly tormented his body with her light, sensual touches, his body began to heat up.

Draco around her and placed a single hand on her hip. He was solely forbidden to get too involved with her explorations. Ravenous for him as they were for her, she was able to control herself better than her Slytherins could.

"Princess," he breathed slowly in her ear," feel his body. Listen to his body. What is he asking for?"

It would have appeared that she was ignoring him until she slipped away from Blaise long enough to allow her eyes to roam over his body. His cock was fully erect, his breathing came in short, pleading pants, and his eyes were a deep grey.

Hermione lifted a hand toward his erection and gently wrapped her fingers around him. Instantly, he let out a groan but was unable to instruct her on how to please him. She was abided by her own intuition and Blaise's gentle coaxing but even he had his own limits. Her auburn eyes watched his reactions carefully before her fingers wrapped tightly around him and moved up. The foreskin of his cock rolled over his purplish head and as her hand came back down, it was revealed once more. Licking her lips, she leaned forward and placed a kiss upon the head, listening to her lover's reaction. Both Slytherins let out a shaking moan. It told her that what she was doing was more than pleasing for both of them. Only she could elicit such reactions.

"Yes…" moaned Blaise once her lips wrapped tightly around him. "Just like that, Cara."

Her small, pink tongue swirled around his head, eliciting a long, hard moan to escape him. One of her hands found his balls and began stroking the hard, round flesh underneath his manhood.

"Fucking Salazar!" Draco grounded out, unable to hold back. Pushing through the barrier set up by Hermione, his hand came in contact with her sex once again. His long fingers stroked the tiny entrance, teasing her, willing her to continue while at the same time pleading her to stop her punishment. There would always be two of him and one of her. One way or another, they would learn. She could deliver such madness threefold if she really wanted to. Only she had the decorum to be polite.

"Mmm…" she moaned, wiggled her rear in front of Draco. She could feel his need press against her arse cheeks but she had yet to give her blonde lover the release he needed. As he was the one to give her first orgasm, she would return the favor to him last. There was something she needed to ground into them before the night was lost. With new found confidence, she began to move over his body. Her hands were everywhere; in his hair, over his chest, hips and thighs. When she finally came back to his awaiting cock, Blaise had had enough of her boisterous need to prove herself.

"Fuck, baby." His breath came in heavy pants. "You feel so bloody good."

Although Hermione didn't get the chance to see it she had felt it. Draco came up and kissed Blaise mercilessly, pouring everything he had into it. His large hands replaced her small ones and soon all three of them were exploring one another. Draco's mouth on Blaise; the Italian's hands on Hermione while she played with Draco. An erotic symphony exploded between them, leaving them all panting heavily together. Beads of sweat trailed down their foreheads, covering their entire bodies in a flesh layer of sin. Spent and covered in each other's juices, they performed a simple cleansing charm and rested until the sun found home in the expanse of the horizon.

* * *

 ** _Monday, November Twelve, 1996_**

 _From the moment his eyes landed on hers and he spoke those words, she knew she had made the right decision._ It was a lot to take in, and a day would come that she would regret giving him the opportunity to speak to her. It was more like she would regret not giving them a chance at all. Like the haunting spell of the memories forbidden, she would have forever been immortalized by the very thing so many people have experienced. Hermione would not be able to live with herself if she had not done so for them. As their remaining piece, it was her duty to be that anchor that keeps them afloat and bestows the tenderness that only she can deliver.

Blaise was more than she ever expected. Though reserved to tireless observation, he was quite gifted in several arts. From playing the piano to sketching a portrait, he represented all that a young Pureblood should be. The status itself still worried her; how can someone like them even want to be in the same room as someone as her? To share the same oxygen, to speak as if on the same terms, Hermione could hardly believe it until Zabini smiled at her and her heart flared up.

"You're more than I expected as well, Hermione." He told her truthfully. Hermione checked his eyes to see any evidence of lying but found none. "I care not of our blood statues, either. Blood nowadays is nothing more than a control tactic. To scare people into submitting to their whims, to make them do as they please. Pureblood blood is the most tainted essence of all. But yours," he gazed at her for a moment," yours is quite special."

"What makes my blood any different from yours?" she snapped without meaning to. They were now all sitting closer together. Draco had gone to fetch them some refreshments from the small kitchenette and hadn't heard a single word. "I don't come from a long line of aristocrats. In fact, there isn't a single drop of magical blood within my family."

"Yet, here you are." he mused softly. "Here you are in all your glorious light. That's what makes you so fascinating. As you have said, you have not a single ounce of magical blood but here you are; brightest witch of her age, top of the class, knowledge and heart like no other. You top every Pureblood I have met and know. It's not your blood that makes you who you are, it's what's inside your heart and soul that does. Who cares about blood when I'm connected to one of the most, if not the most intriguing young woman that has ever graced the earth? Any man would be foolish to look only at what supplies your body with nutrients only to disregard those other essential traits that make you whole."

"Rubbish," she murmured, though completely enthralled by his words.

"No, it's not rubbish." Blaise laughed brilliantly. "Merlin, it was never this hard to get you see how beautiful you really are. Even in you past reincarnation, you didn't give us nearly as much trouble as you have this lifetime."

"Reincarnation?"

He nodded, affirming her question. "Yes, reincarnation. Did you honestly believe that this was our first, let alone our first encounter with one another?"

Instead of nodding, she turned and stared into his eyes.

"It isn't, Cara. It's one of many. Hopefully, it's one of the happier ones."

Hermione could see the fleeting remorse escape his eyes before he had time to register that he had been mourning something, or someone he missed.

"How many were there?" she couldn't help ask.

Blaise looked taken aback by her sudden question. A fleet of sorrow marched across his dark eyed as he considered the question carefully.

"Many," he told her quietly. Though silent in his resolve, she could tell that he was anxious to tell her more. There was so much more to know, to see, to share that it even overwhelmed her at one point. "One day, we will tell you."

A cold shudder went through her. How was it possible for someone she just recently began talking to sway her so?

"Tell her what, Zabini?"

Blaise's eyes instantly lit up as Draco handed him a cup of tea. As he did, Hermione noticed something entirely odd about their wrists. Without thinking, she leaned over and snatched Blaise's wrist and studied it with wide eyes. His symbol, had she been paying attention throughout their conversation, was slowly taking shape right before her eyes.

"Goodness," she whispered to herself," that is…"

"Strange?" Draco offered bluntly.

"Terrifying?" trialed Blaise. "It is alright if you find it odd. It is something new and-"

"No," she told them, a small smile forming on her lips. "I was going to say different."

"Different, how?"

She shook her head, her fingers skimming the dark skin as her eyes set to memorize every inch of the medium sized symbol. She felt her own wrist burn a little and as she moved closer, the sensation grew. It was only when Draco came to join them that all three symbols began glow a faint red. The black ink of their souls darkened. They all stared at it in awe.

Hermione was unboundedly stricken with horror. "Why does it do that?" she whispered, frightened by her own natural awareness to the boys sitting on opposite sides of her.

Draco was the first to speak. "Your soul recognizes us as your own."

She held back the remark that was forming in her mind. She did not recognize either of them as her soulmate, so why was her body and soul having such a hard time controlling itself? Surely, it would know and wouldn't have to worry about it, right? If so, why was she having such a hard time accepting them? With time, Hermione was bound to.

"I know this is a hard thing to accept, Hermione." Draco placed a hand on hers and she visibly flinched. "But, like you… thought. With time, we hope that you'll come to accept us."

"How long does it take?" she asked, uncertain of her own place. "I- I can't say for certain that I feel it, but…"

"It'll come to you in its own time and when it does, we'll be there for you."

She nodded in understanding.

The last thing she caught was Blaise's appreciative smile and the lingering sense of comfort.

"We've got all the time in the world, Hermione. We'll wait as long as it takes for your soul to know that it's ours."


	13. 13

_I know it has been entirely too long since I've updated. Please do not lost hope or be mad! I had a lot of school issues to deal with. I'll have you know that I passed all my courses! Going onto the floor next semester!_

 _I'm going to go back and edit my chapters, including this one. Since it's been so long, it's definitely a must that I go back and do that. Don't flame when you find a crap load of mistakes._

 _Next chapter will be incredibly long and packed full of everything :) I promise! I didn't want to put a crap load of stuff in this chapter. I really wanted to keep the whole secret going and all that fun stuff. ^-^_

 _As always, enjoy._

 _See y'all soon for the next chapter!_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Twelve_

 _Echo from the Past_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

Sleep came blissfully. Each of their arms and legs were tangled in an endless mess, their bodies were pressed tightly against one another's, all with uniquely satisfying smiles. Blaise and Draco had taken her one last time before the need for a descent night of sleep became imperative. With the taste of each other's juices on their tongues, they gathered together under the sheets and fell asleep.

A sigh of longing escaped Hermione as she slept, completely content with how the night has went. As she turned on her side, feeling the warmth of her lover's bodies press into hers, it arrived.

The light in which she deprived from formed with great éclat. A ball of light, as small as a single pebble, came forth. It circulated like fine dust around the room until it found its mark. Hermione had been lying there, unmoving. Clothed in nothing but the silken sheets and arms and hands of her lovers, she awakened to find the small ball floating above her. She blinked. Several times, she did it as if to make sure what she was seeing was not feigned. As she did, the light came closer and she whimpered. Of course she would be scared; she didn't know what it was or what it would do. Whilst it stalked toward her like a slithering snake, whipping back and forth as it made contact with her. The thing submerged her in the coldest waters she ever felt. For a second, she was paralyzed until a realization dawned on her. The glowing orb of light was her friend, and possibly a long forgotten part of her as well. Leaning back, sighing, she welcomed the oldest part of her being. A memory emerged and she delved right into the waters of her long lost past.

 _When Hermione woke, she had no idea where she was. With no indication as to where the light may have brought her, she stood there motionless in her spot._ Looking around, she noticed that wherever she landed, the memory had provided her with a dress. Mended from the finest material, softest fabrics and most treasured threads. White flowers adorned her right shoulder as well as her waist. Her hair had been tossed into a simple, yet feminine up do; her curly hair had been charmed to cascade elegantly down her back and over her shoulders. Her features, she imagined with a slight blush, had been transfigured to emphasize her natural beauty. Even in the waking world, she did need much charms or spells to improve her appearance every day. She was naturally pretty and doing so would ruin it.

Hermione looked around more. Stunned by the transformation and the landscaped in which she found herself in, she tossed all her reservations aside and began to explore the new world of her bringing.

Fields upon fields of the most stunning variations combed her surroundings. High, majestic mountains and unexplored terrain to the most vividly clear waters filled her eyes. She felt as if she had fallen from grace and landed right back in the middle of the sanctuary of the heavens. If falling like that meant finding such a marvelous place, she would fall over and over again. As she ventured further into the dreamland of the floating ball, Hermione found herself more drawn to the place as time passed. An incredibly yearning of hope and wonderment held her; she felt almost inclined to think that she was a part of this fine establishment and the ball of light thought so as well.

 _You are home, dear one._

 _Home._ What an absurd think to purpose.

Hermione allowed her eyes to glide over the hills once more. Animals of all shapes and sized gathered around her, each rising their heads up to greet their mistress. As she embarked on the long journey to distinguish this world from the last, the animals followed suit and travelled along with her. Time to time, a small little creature would come up and run alongside her playfully, as if asking for permission to join in on her disoriented merriment. As a gentle soul of the earthly plane, she allowed it. In time, she found herself halting for a moment and picking up one of them to carry. She did and they small group carried on.

Every bit of this fictional dream was like a blessed trove of bewilderment. She felt truly at peace and one with the world. Not a single negative thought or emotion found its way inside her being and if any were to penetrated her cleansed body, it was filtrated out of her and evaporated into thin air. Hermione never felt this calm before. As she walked, she found herself stumbling upon the most private of moments.

Lying in an open field were three individuals, all dressed in the same garments of her picking. They lied in close proximity to one another, their elbows just a whisper away from touching. Their gazes were drawn upward, and they seemed to be talking amongst themselves. Hermione watched them with a drawn expression; there was something most familiar about this scene.

" _You are right to believe that_ ," came a voice.

Hermione stumbled over herself and looked around. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest as her eyes found the stunning woman that had spoken to her.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked in nothing higher than a whisper. "What do you want with me? Why did you bring me here?"

The woman smiled, her dark hair falling around her face as she did so. Her magnetic eyes found its way over to the three lovers spread out on the field.

" _So many questions for someone with so little answers_."

"Stop with your riddles and tell me where you've brought me," she demanded, hissing the words.

"You came to find the source of all your troubles, yes?"

Hermione bit her lip. How was she supposed to relay to this woman the extend of her dismay? As if sensing it for herself, the floating deity strolled towards her, smiling.

"It is nothing to be embarrassed of, my child. Your tale is not for the faint of heart, however. It is tragic as it is envied."

"What have you brought me here for?"

"You seek the truth, yes?" she asked, tossing away her question as if it was of no importance. Hermione nodded anyway, eager to learn more. "I have brought you here to seek that truth."

"I do want the truth…" the young witch whispered, a hint of begging hidden in those words. "I'm just so scared. What if it's not what I was expecting? What if it changes everything we've worked so hard for?"

"You will have to take that chance, child."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "What if I can't?"

"You can, and you will," came her response instantly. "I believe in you, dear one. Your story has been told over and over. An endless cycle that is long overdue to be broken."

Hermione didn't want to ask, but decided to push the issue. What she really wanted to know was when this all started. If they really did have a chance of reversing, or ending this horrid cycle. If this woman couldn't give her the answers, she was afraid that she would have to take more drastic measures. Even if it meant taking a step into her Slytherin's version of their first connection.

"Come, there is something you need to see."

The deity before her stared at her and for a moment she feared she may have said something to offend her. But, she as quickly as her hard expression came, it disappeared, replaced with a friendlier one. Raising her arm, she allowed her hand to feel the softly structured contours of her cheeks before running along her jaw and dropping back to her side. It was then when Hermione realized something was wrong. She was no longer looking at a woman of unrecognizable heritage, but the vast plane of the sky. Clouds of different sizes drifted above her with slow, deliberate grace. Two solid bodies lied beside her, encasing her in an unpenetrated barrier of warmth, much like the warmth she had felt with her own lovers. But, these men weren't her lovers.

"Psyche," a great, masculine voice commanded. A pair of strong arms wounds themselves tightly around her waist, bringing her fluff against a hard, toned chest. A shuttering sigh escaped her before she had time to stop it. Another set of arms came around her, and his body was pushed up against her back. "What has you so dazed, my love?"

"I am not dazed," the retort came out without the account of her free will. It was as if she was in another's body while they operated normally and without knowledge of knowing she was there. Soon, they feeling evaporated, leaving only her to work the mechanics of her body. She could feel them press into her with trained urgency. She wanted them just as bad as they wanted her. Time was the greatest of trials.

"If you are not dazed," came Thanatos' voice, low and rough as his counterpart. How could the God of Love and the God of Death come to mean so much to a simple human as her? Princess or not, she found herself questioning their unique union every single time she was in their presence. They seemed to immediately drawn to this despair.

"How many times must we tell you?" hissed Thanatos, the more brutally upfront of her lovers. He ripped her from Eros' embrace, and trapped her underneath him, his legs effectively pinning her down. Hermione could feel her gown ride up her thighs, exposing her to the harsh zephyr. She blushed at the thought of them seeing what lied underneath. Didn't the Gods and Goddesses of this time believe in bras and knickers? "Our union is not a cosmic error. Life and death can form from love, my sweet. Do you wish to be shown again of our love? I am sure Eros would be more than willing to demonstrate his exquisite talent."

The God of Love chuckled. "Calm down, Thanatos. You are scaring our girl."

"Scaring her?" he rebuffed instantly. "One night together under the moon and you think I say these things to scare her?"

He shrugged. "She is still learning, my beloved. Leave her alone."

Thanatos leaned down and captured her lips with his. A moan issued from her, and he growled, deep and feral.

"Do I scare you, Princess?"

She was quick to understand the dynamics of this dream-like environment. The astounding similarities that shined in both Gods just confirmed what she had initially thought. Thanatos was so like Draco, as Eros was just like Blaise. Gentle but only to the two they loved, both men would do anything for her, no matter which incarnation she found herself in.

With an all shuttering breath, Hermione looked up at Thanatos and shook her head. "Never," she whispered.

The God smirked. "See, I told you, Eros."

"For all you know she could be lying." The God of Love seemed to enjoy riling him up. "Not that our little girl is prone to lie."

"Then why start now?" he queried, tugging on the strap of her dress and kissing her shoulder. She surpassed a dreaded moan. His touches were enough to melt her. Sparks flew like the stars did in the sky.

"Mmm," chuckled Eros sensually. "Yes, why start now?"

Hermione smiled at them both, pressing a small hand to either of their cheeks. "Oh, how I love you both!"

"As we love you, also," growled her more brutal lover before rising. He stood and took inventory of their surroundings while his companions talked. Eros smiled down upon her, tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and apologized to her.

"He is very relieved, my love."

"Relieved, how?"

Eros watched Thanatos carefully before speaking. "He feared that you may not wanted to commit to us."

"Why would he think that?" she was appalled that he would even consider such a thought. "Does he believe that I do not love him?"

"Of course not, Psyche."

"Then what?" Now, she was desperate to know. What had Draco's first incarnation feared would happen. "Is this because of your mother." She asked warily. A sudden surge of hate enveloped her and she took it as a sign that he past incarnation didn't particularly like the Goddess of Love. Nor did she like her, either. She barely tolerated her because of her illegitimate child's demand that she did. He had threatened to cut her off if she did not comply to his terms.

Eros and Thanatos loved her. Or, Psyche. And, they would do absolutely anything to make sure no harm befell her. Aphrodite was a very temperamental woman, even more so when it came to her offspring. Having been born from the sperm that fell into the oceans, she knew very little of true love and did everything within her power to destroy love that she did not approve of. She obviously did not approve of their love, especially between the three of them.

Hermione looked away, fearing that her expressive eyes would give her emotions away. She didn't like the idea of Thanatos hurting. She could do very little when the damned God refused to talk to them. He hid his emotions; he had to. He was wholeheartedly feared.

"Hey, now." Eros pulled her into a hug and rubbed her shoulders. "It will be alright."

She shook her head and buried her face into the crook of his neck. "She is out to get one of us. I can feel it, Eros. That woman is planning an end."

"Whose end could she possibly want?"

Tears fell freely. She hadn't realized it back in her time, but it was very clear now. Aphrodite has been behind a great many of things but she didn't think she would be behind her own death. To think that a Goddess that preached Love and Happiness would devise a plan to kill someone was incomprehensible.

" _Mine_ ," she whispered after some time. "I have seen how she looks at me, Eros. She does not like me, nor want me anywhere near you. A bond between three just cannot exist and she knows. The Goddess _knows_."

"I think we have proven her prophecy wrong."

"Oh, consummating our union underneath the moonlight does not mean we have proven it wrong!"

"Calm down, Psyche."

"Do not tell me to calm down…" she rose to her feet and walked away from him. Hermione knew he was right on her tail, but she didn't care. She wanted space and that was exactly what she was going to do. "You are just like Thanatos! You do not find solace in a warning, even if smacks you across the face!"

* * *

Endless was the walk. There was no true destination, and by the time she reached where her heart was pulling her, she had an idea where she wanted to end up. Surrounded by the darkness, she stole a breath and steadied herself. This was not the first time she went to his temple, and it wouldn't be the last.

Hermione shivered. As natural and familiar the walk was, she held onto this sense of dread. Thanatos, she assumed, would be thrilled to see her. Though, he did storm off as she had done with Eros. It's just, neither of them understood. The crazy Goddess and her destructive touch and the caresses she felt with her lovers were completely different. She didn't know how she was going to be able to confront either of them. They just did not understand…

With a sigh, she prevailed forward. It felt like weeks since she's last journeyed to his temple, even though it was only last week when they found unified glory under the moon. The strange tides, the pull of the magnificent globe- no wonder there was only a small window to provide their vows.

The witch gasped, finding a memory that just didn't feel like her own.

 _I vow to give myself to the both of you, and to never stray._

Did she really say that? She blushed, throwing her hands to her face and splaying them across her cheeks. By the Gods! She did, didn't she?

Hermione let go of the warmth upon her cheeks, allowing it to flee before her. She hadn't given the vows a single thought and if she remembered correctly, the full moon was less than two weeks away. Hardly any time was left to seal herself to Draco and Blaise.

"You fear that they will not want to show you," said the woman as she rose from the ashes of the scene. She smiled kindly at her, a contemptuous gesture. She regarded her as if it was an awful thing to do. Hermione had no other reason to go on, believing that it would be best if she took a peek into their version of the past. "That is a good and bad thing because they fear what you may discover."

"Do I have any reason not to trust them, then?" Hermione asked, trying to keep up with her fast pace.

She halted, turned and stared at her. "Depends on your definition of trust. I can tell that you do, but where is your heart, little one?"

"What do you mean 'where is my heart'?"

"I mean, is this your heart's desire? To know where your connection began?"

"I do," she breathed," I'm just scared."

"Of course you are." She paused before gesturing to the scene before them. "We are here. Go on."

* * *

The God of Death let out a heavy sigh. All around him, the dead prevailed. It was not every day that a man came to a decision, but this one was very hard to keep.

He stared into the open expanse of his domain. Stars twinkled invitingly above him as the Gods and Goddesses of this jurisdiction rode their carriages across the sky. It was quiet. No sound was made, and the only thing he could faintly hear was the beating of his wounded heart.

Thanatos felt incredibly drained. More so than he has ever felt. Livid with this foreign rein, he pursued other forms of art to annihilate this wickedly harsh feeling in the pit of his stomach and the walls of his heart. Thanatos was naturally drawn to the darkened recess that was his kingdom, but it was night's like this that made it exceedingly hard to accept something that he truly did not wish to take pity to. All this time he believed he wasn't good enough and now that he was able to show his true colors to them, he was faltering underneath the intense strain of his work and status. He fought these feelings every day of his long existence.

Even now as he felt her approach.

"I knew you would come to me, "he sighed, closing his eyes before directing his sharp gaze toward Hermione.

She squeaked, caught by her first lover before turning away.

"You may have Eros fooled, but I know when an incarnation comes to play with its treasure. May I ask how you were brought here?"

"Through a dream."

He took that into consideration. "Eros followed you."

"I imagined so. We did not exactly leave on good turns," she murmured softly.

Thanatos chuckled deeply. "You never do." He paused. "It is dangerous for you to be here, especially with that witch of a Goddess lurking around."

"I take it you are upset about her meddling?" she came up and placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him. He tensed under her touched, absorbing it with all his unbounded strength.

"Very much so," he confessed. "If Eros knew what she was doing, then he would be a little bit more compliant."

"Who says I am not?"

The two turned and welcomed their third piece with opened arms.

"Eros," Psyche sighed into his embrace. "I am truly sorry for the way I acted."

"As you should be," he hissed, pressing his lips to her jaw. "I forgive you, as always."

She giggled musically as he found a special spot behind her neck. "Oh, Gods!"

"Sing," he bid. "Sing to the Heavens, Princess!"

"I am glad to see that you are just the same, little girl." Thanatos hissed approvingly. "As horrible a decision to follow that blasted ghost, I am glad you did."

Her lover's did not seem as thrilled to know that she was poking around the distant past, or deterred by the fact that they weren't with their rightful lover.

Hermione conveyed a heavy response before angling her head and pecking her lover soundlessly on the lips, sparking irreparably damage. Thanatos immediately took action. With swiftness that she hasn't quite gotten used to, his hands pushed her dress well above her waist until the fabric rested well above her waist. He made quick work of her bodice and exposed her ample breasts to the cold air. She shivered as his tongue lapped up around her right nipple before pulling it into his mouth and began suckling it with fever.

"By the Gods, Psyche," moaned Thanatos, moving his fingers between her nipple as he trailed kisses down her chest. He squeezed her breasts until she let out a breathy moan. "How your body sings."

"Be nice, Thanatos," urged Eros demandingly. From what Hermione could tell, he was hanging on by a mere strand. He was reaching the end of his limits.

"Eros," she shook as her more forceful lover brushed her hips. "Take me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, nervously. "We just coupled last night and- "

"I am fine," she assured. "I need… I need you both so much, so badly. Quench my thirst for your flesh."

"You know not of what you ask," growled her dark lover.

"Show me, then." She coincided. Without warning, Hermione reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down for a demanding, forceful kiss. Their lips meshed together; Thanatos' hands sought passage over both their bodies. It didn't take long for them to be divested of their clothing. Hermione arched beautifully into her Gods while they slowly worked her body like Apollo's lyre. Gorgeous sounds were elicited from her sweet mouth, followed by the deep rumblings of her lovers as they pressed their sweaty bodies up and against hers. She felt their protrusions and blushed profusely at what the past incarnation had done. Never felt the feel of a hard male as he entered her, the feel of Thanatos cock pressing past her folds and filling her up came as a great surprise. She shuddered, digging her nails into his shoulders and sinking her teeth into his neck. He growled like a wild beast, pounding into her fiercely. His hips snapped forward quick and fast before he pulled out and let his prick linger within the opening of her tight walls.

Eros, came down and stole breathless kisses from her lips. His body pressed into her, his hands trailing up and down her sides. Hermione found herself atop Thanatos as he fucked her ruthlessly, his nails pressed into her hips, his eyes shut and his jaw solidly clenched.

"Fuck, Eros," he groaned, drawing his cock out of her and nestling himself between her cum coated lips. "Take her, I beg of you! Take her now before I take her there!"

Nodding, Eros aligned himself at her back entrance and thrusted deeply into her. Hermione gasped, ridding herself of air as her dark lover began to thrust slowly in and out of her arse. The sensation of having both of their cocks filling her up was indescribable.

The night exploded with their mixed calls into the inhibited wilderness of their love. But, as the dream dissolved and all was forgotten, Hermione still remained as curious and anxious as ever.

She was going to come, even if it meant putting their lover and passion at risk.

* * *

 **TBC...**


	14. 14

**_A/N down below_**

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Thirteen_

 _Hidden Secrets_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Wednesday December Eighteenth, 1996**

 **Hogwarts' Library**

Several nights have passed since the encounter with Eros and Thanatos. While both of her versions of the Gods remained oblivious to her dream progression, Hermione still remained well aware of their presence as she pondered the idea of having met the two without their knowledge. It was a hard secret to keep, knowing that it in fact were being effected by her invasive tactics to find out about their past.

With a sigh, she tossed the book that she had found on reincarnation and leaned back in her chair, tired. A mixture of relief and frantic worry mingled together inside her. She has never felt so distressed about anything, even homework or tests that counted far more than their actual worth. This, however, was her life. Their lives. Everything was held together by the same thread, and here she was trying to tear it apart. When will she finally realize that it was pointless, even worthless to try? A little voice in the back of her mind murmured to her to stop, while another, the one profoundly more persuasive, cajoled her to go further.

Hermione was beside herself. Could she continue to selfishly dive into the past whilst betraying the men that have loved her since the beginning of time? As the scenes of her dream played before her, she continued to wonder. A conflict of ethical thing to do in regards to what she was planning to do began to disturb her. Could she even go about with her plans? If so, could she face the consequences?

She did not know.

* * *

 _Sometime during her sleepless tirade, she had fallen asleep. And, just like last time she found herself clothed in a luxurious dress with her hair curled to simple perfection. Golden bracelets and an array of sparkling rings was worn on her delicate fingers and thin wrists. Strips of colorful feathers poked out from the intricately placed bun upon her head as songs of the birds filled her ears._

 _Her arrival had been foreseen by one of her Gods._

"You are here early," murmured a deep voice.

Thanatos.

Hermione turned and smiled innocently at him. With a shrug, she said," I must have fallen asleep in the library."

"Library?"

"Yes, a place where mass volumes of tomes are kept." She giggled. "Surely, you have a library in this vast plane of your existence?"

Thanatos grinned. "Watch it little girl. We may be worlds and years apart, but that does not mean I cannot… tempt you." His lips brushed against her throat. A shiver travelled violently down her spine and down to her core.

"You are insatiable."

"I do hold the most beautiful creature of the world in my arms. Of course my body will react positively to your touches, and _only_ your touches."

"I have never failed to know of your true feelings."

"After all these years," he breathed against her neck, his hands resting peacefully on her hips," they have never changed. Only grew stronger as the years separated us and we were all finally reunited."

Hermione struggled to keep her mind relatively cleared. This is where all their troubles and passion began. Colliding together until one couldn't be distinguished from another. Thanatos sensed her distressed and pulled away from her.

"What is wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing," she buried her head into his chest and sighed. "I don't wish to alarm you with my concerns."

His hands came to smooth down her unruly hair. "You can never alarm me, my love."

Looking up, she had to ask," Really?"

Thanatos smiled and nodded. "Of course. Now, will you tell me what is troubling you?"

Biting her lip, watching as her past lover's eyes darkened with unadulterated lust by the simple, dangerous action, she confessed her woes.

"I can't let go of the feeling that something is wrong." She began, slowly. "It's like, someone is always there, following me wherever I go. The presence is dark, threatening. And…" she bit her lip again, afraid to go on. "I fear that whatever has happened is going to happen again. This time the consequences unredeemable."

Thanatos remained so quiet that she almost regretted opening up to Malfoy's first reincarnation. As the tension between them rose, so did his temper.

"You should not have come to me, Princess. I shall not be generous with my clemency in the future. Be gone, for you have no place meddling in something that has already occurred."

With several hurtful words, he dismissed her as if she had never come to him in the first place. Thanatos watched her as she left, instantly regretting treating her with such awfulness. He abused her loving care, her beautiful intelligence, and simply her. She did not deserve to be treated in such a way, but he could not lead her to the woes of her deepest pain. She couldn't remember who had destroyed their blissful play, and who might be behind the present attacks and the chaos that may soon arise.

He stole to the night without looking back.

A ping of guilt clenched at his heart and it took all his power to not rip everything that he came in contact with apart.

* * *

As soon as she woke up from that frightful dream, Hermione frantically gathered her belongings and hurried out of the library. Tears slide down her face, but she had no time to wipe them away as she hurried away from the little sanctuary by the Restricted Section within the library and down the corridor. Still overcame with tiredness, she hardly felt the brush of fingers as she collided into a passing body. Stealing herself, she glanced up and found herself face to face with the man that had broken her heart so many moments ago.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." Draco helped her steady herself before turning to look at her properly. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Shaking her head, she threw what his stupid reincarnation said and pulled him into a hug, crying into his robes as she did so.

Draco hesitant hand on her lower back as he tried his best to sooth her. From this, the idea of him knowing what she did was confirmed.

He knew that she was in contact with their past lives, but said nothing to confirm or deny what his had possibly just said.

* * *

 **Friday December Twentieth, 1997**

"Fascinating!" breathed the young wizard as his eyes combed over the words. It's been several long seconds before the last utterance of the word and Harry and Hermione were beginning to wonder what Neville was reading.

"What do you have there?" Hermione peered over his shoulder.

He allowed her to read the paragraph that he just read before pulling the book away.

"Gillyweed, huh?" Harry pushed up his glasses and smiled. "Sounds fairly interesting."

"It is!" his friend exclaimed, giving them a toothy smile before delving back into his Herbology book. "So fascinating."

The two laughed at his enthusiasm before focusing their attention back on their own work. It's been a long day for the boys and had planned for a relaxing day in before their last lesson of the day, but someone had other ideas. The second they got out of Defensive Against the Dark Arts, Hermione dragged them both to the library to get a head start on their essay. She insisted that the essay that was due at the end of February needed to be finished by the end of the day. That way she had plenty of time to edit it as many times as she wanted and rewrite it if need be. Harry and Neville quickly grew to hate the idea, and were able to convince her that they would start tomorrow morning.

"I do hope you're not lying to me," she said, scribbling something onto her parchment of notes and scrunching up her face. Scribbling it off, she looked up and gave them a wary smile. "I just don't see why you can't start now."

"We told you, Hermione." Harry said. "I've got enough on my plate and Neville just wants to read. Why is it so important that we all start together?"

"It isn't," she pouted. "I just don't want you to forget and stay up all night trying to cram as much as you can into an essay that you had almost two whole months to do."

"That won't happen." Harry leaned back in his chair and smile. "We'll start this weekend if that makes you feel better."

"It doesn't." She sounded grim.

"Class will be starting soon, anyway. Why start now when we'll just have to put everything away in fifteen minutes? Unless, you care to get there before everyone else, 'Mione?"

She frowned. "No, not if you want our friendship to last more than the next three seconds."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, hm?"

"You've been doing that ever since we were children, Harry." Hermione pointed out before coughing. She tapped her chest lightly with her hand and went back to copying notes. "And, stop teasing me. I hate when you do that."

"Doesn't seem to bother you when Malfoy does it."

Neville mumble something under his breath but paid no attention to the two best friends.

"Why is that?"

Hermione quirk an eyebrow, her eyes watering. "Why what?"

"Why is my teasing any different from his?"

By this point, she couldn't take the cough that was building up inside her chest. She coughed loudly, the sound of her awful coughs coming out in deeply pitched hits. Deep and wet, they didn't sound remotely good to the ears, especially when the symptoms of her slowly progressive illness has been creeping upon her since that morning.

Harry's watched her carefully all day. It was right before their last class and he had to ask himself whether she was well enough to go to Potion's. Merlin knew that she could go to the Infirmary, but he knew that Hermione would not allow it. A frown instantly caved in his discreetly watchful features. Whatever she was playing out wasn't going to continue be ignored if he had anything to do about it.

"How are things going?" he asked. "You know, between you and Malfoy."

Another round of convulsively wet coughs punctured the air. While Hermione tried to get her coughs under control, Harry was able to piece together the evidence in a timely manner. It seemed to him that every time he mentioned his name, she could go into a fit of incessant coughs that pulled deeply from the bottom of her chest whilst dragging out both of her lungs. It appeared unethical that a single person, or even notion would be the reason behind such loud and obnoxious noises but it appeared that was the case. With a tossed replication of contemplation, Harry cleared the slate of his face and stared at her as if he hadn't pieced anything together.

"We're… doing fine."

"Fine?" he inquired, eyebrow raised. "Define fine."

"Oh, Harry. You know what I mean."

"No, Hermione I don't. Enlighten me."

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip before answering. "We're fine." And that was all she said, insisting to leave the conversation there.

The only thing she did then train her eyes on her books before she continued to write. Harry did not say anymore.

* * *

They were waiting for her arrival by the back desks of the classroom. It was completely unlike her to ignore their calls and it worried them not knowing what may be going through her mind.

Monday night was beyond amazing. It reached further than their deepest desires and imagination. Even then as the class slowly flooded in, their imagination ran away from them. They could still feel the traces of her tiny hands as they glided against their wet bodies, the hypnotic scents of her bodies mixing with their as they plunged their fingers in and out of her tightness while her hands grasped their erections, pumping them and spreading their…

…The men groaned under their breaths. Two days have passed and they were acting like fourth years, unable to control their fucking urges. When it came to Hermione, there was no cure. They will always want her.

Blaise growled deeply. He couldn't take another moment without in the same room. Draco had been in contact with him throughout the week, and had grown progressively worried about their witch. After Wednesday night and the confession that brought forth from that meeting, he wanted nothing more than to confront the girl about what she had discovered. No one, not even them, had the ability to meet past reincarnations without the acknowledgement of whomever they wanted to meet. She had been brought there unwillingly and for a purpose. The daunting thing was they knew why she was brought there, but couldn't bring themselves to accept it.

"Where could she be?"

Draco turned and tilted his head contemplatively. "I don't know. I didn't see her this morning."

"You too?" asked Blaise, suspiciously. "Neither have I. Should we go and look for her?"

The heir shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "No, but we may have to be careful."

Blaise turned and found the same distressing scene that had his companion so riled up.

Hermione was with Potter. His hand tucked into the pockets of his pants while standing fairly close to their witch. It never bothered them before, but it did now.

Why was he being so protective of her? They wondered connectively to one another. Potter was as strange little wizard, no doubt trying to test their patience and control. No one stood beside her except them. He was going to pay.

As soon as he left to greet his other friends, they took action and the Princes of the Night captured their Princess.

"Not paying attention, Granger?" drawled Draco as he tilted his head and nodded to Blaise.

He smiled down at her. "You of all people should be in the front of the group, bouncing on their heels, Granger."

"I'm not one for bouncing at the moment," she said, tiredly.

"I can tell you one thing that you could be bouncing on."

"Or two," offered Blaise darkly as he moved himself beside her and caressed her hip. "Interested, Lion?"

She shook her head, let her breath out from her lungs in a breathless progression. "N-no. Not at all."

"Oh, that's too bad." Draco placed his hand on her other hip. "We would very much like a repeat of Monday night."

"Can't you partake with us, Love?"

Hermione's breath hitched but she remained silently. An unsettling sickness began to bubble inside her stomach and it was becoming very hard to control and tolerate.

"N-no," she begged as they moved their hands in synchronization. "P-please stop!" She whispered.

"Why on earth would we do that, little lion?"

"Mmm…" Draco found a responsive spot on her body and began smoothing his hand over it. "Can't wait until the end of the lesson to whisk you away to the Head's room and have our wicked way with you. "

"S-stop!"

"Not until you tell us what we want to know."

Before she could answer, Slughorn waltzed in and both men growled, having no choice to put distance between the three of them.

"Alright, gather around."

He waved his hand and a cauldron and its contents appeared before them on top of his desk. He looked around with a smile.

The mixed class looked at one another queerly and it wasn't until a brave little soul that they followed their Professor's orders and circled around them. Hermione looked around at her classmates tentatively for an escape. She didn't want to give her classmates reason to suspect anything was wrong with her, but there were things that, no matter how tough of an act to put up, could not be concealed.

She knew that they were observant of her recent behavior. Ever since waking up Tuesday morning, she has been in a strangely distant mood. Neither of them have gone to her to get to her to talk about it, to which she was grateful for, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

A part of her thought they had found out about what she did. Another, she mused wistfully, they were waiting on her to make the first move. They had promised they would reveal to her of their past incarnations and she felt guilty that she took away the privilege of doing so. What an awful girlfriend she was to do that! Even more so when they continued to remind her of something she couldn't inquiry about.

"Granger!" Slughorn's voice boomed over his ambiguity of sexual desire.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Quite alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded, feeling much better after their hands stopped touching her body. "Yes, sir."

"Are you sure? I have been asking you to come up here for quite some time."

Hermione urged the blush that rose to her cheeks to go away and as every pair of eyes landed on her, she had no choice but to join their Professor's side and take a guess as to what the potion he brewed was.

"Well, any suggestions?" he asked, hopeful.

The Muggleborn took a healthy sniff and let it out sharply. "Amortentia, sir. The most powerful love potion known to the Wizarding World."

"Quite right you are, Ms. Granger!" he beamed, impressed by her knowledge of the substance. "And, what does this particular potion do."

"It caused the drinker to fall helpless in love with the first person they see."

"What does the potion smell to you?" he gestured for her to take another whiff and she did. Inhaling deeply, she let the sweet aroma fill her lungs. From parchment to freshly mowed grass, she didn't know what she agreed to more. As the scents morphed, a burnt amber and rustic orange came forth. Brought by the heavenly scents of her lovers, she began entranced by the fusion of the forest and boundless reception of the mystic powers of…

… a sudden, overpowering surge of sickness swept over and before she could help herself, she turned on her heel and dashed out the door, her hand clasped on her mouth to prevent herself from throwing up prematurely. As her Professor called after her, she couldn't help ignore everyone else. She barely had time to register that Slughorn volunteered Harry to go after her to see how she would adjust.

Harry zoomed through the corridors much like he zoomed in the air on his broom. It didn't take long for him to find the witch, who had broken down into tears the moment she found sanctuary beyond a panel right off the entrance of the Grand Staircase. Her sadness was enlightened by the fact that the boy knew that something was terribly wrong. He waited for her to calm down before speaking.

"I- I don't know w-what's wrong with me, Harry," she sobbed. "O-one moment I'm fine, and the next I'm overcome with this… with such grotesque sickness. I can't stand it any longer!"

The boy listened to his friend as she continued to cry. When she finally stopped, he reached out and rubbed her back.

A part of him hadn't been truly blessed with believing the sickness had magically fixed itself. It was hard to believe one's phenomenon when he knew for certain that it still lingered there, deep inside the cells of her body. Forever dormant until something was able to trigger its crusade, the illness remained undetected until now.

"What do you think might have brought this on again?" he asked, suddenly.

"I don't know, Harry!" she bit out, irritated. "It all had to do with that bloody potion Slughorn brewed. At first it smelt of freshly mowed grass, then of parchment until… until it morphed into something just plain awful. It smelt of death and blood." She shivered, shaking her head as to rid herself of the gruesome image and scent. "I- I don't want to go back there. Please don't make me go back."

"Perhaps," he licked his lips," perhaps there was something inside the potion itself that caused you to become suddenly sick? You've said so yourself that some of the things we use to brew are just plain gross."

"Yes, well, I'm a girl, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just because I'm a witch doesn't mean I don't find anything gross. It's a natural response to anything, especially those nasty four-headed earth worms we use. You must agree that they are horrid, yes?"

Harry couldn't care one way or another but felt the need to at least entertain her with the idea of finding the ingredients they used nasty.

"Listen, Hermione," Harry drew her body close and looked into her eyes. A sudden idea came to mind, and hopefully she didn't catch on too quickly to thwart it. He needn't look far to seek the truth, especially with two unwilling Slytherins amongst their numbers. "I hate to do this, but there is someone I need to talk to. Do you think you can manage the walk to your dormitory? If you can't I-"

"No," she said firmly. "I can manage." Hermione nodded, trying to convince herself of such a tenuous task. Shakily, she stood, maneuvering her body as if it was the first using her extremities, the muscles, and ligaments. Another thing was for certain, her actions were not her own.

Harry watched as his best friend got carried by the crowd of colors. Having not noticed the bell for the end of the first lesson, he sat there just as dazed as she had been.

The moment she edged toward the end of the hall, Harry made a run for it back to Slughorn's classroom. As luck would have it, Zabini and Malfoy were just pulling away from the scalding room and into the dank embodiment of the hallway. There was when he cornered them.

"Watch it, Potter!" hissed Malfoy as he pushed him with his hands.

"What the fuck did you do to her?"

"Do to who?" asked the heir. "Use your big boy words, Potter before I-"

"Hermione, you piece of shit!" growled the boy. "What did you do to her and bloody well tell me before I hex you until the next fucking century."

"Oh," a smirk played on his lips," an idle threat coming from Saint Potter?"

"No threat when I can very well promise you," ground the black-haired boy.

Zabini, out of the three of them, had managed to keep his temper. With a deep breath, he eased his way between his companion and enemy, sending them both fair warnings before turning his attention and arching his brow. The less time he spent with Potter, the better. He wanted to find the witch just as badly as Draco and picking fights wasn't helping their cause.

"Spit it out, Potter." drawled Zabini lazily. "We have another class to get to and a witch to catch. We haven't got all day."

"Oh, but you've got all the time in the world to harm Hermione."

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Malfoy, his eyebrows drawing into a harsh, confused line. "If this is about what happened in class then we are just as confused as you are. We haven't got a clue why she ran out like that, but by all means share your bountiful knowledge with us. Otherwise, leave us the bloody hell alone. We don't have the time to waste messing around with you."

"That are you're going to ride this off?" he asked, strengthening his stance in front of them. "I volunteered my hand to you. I gave you my word that I would help whatever bloody illness that was plaguing her, but I never thought you would be the one behind it."

"What the fuck-"

"I looked it up." Harry confessed to them. Unbeknownst to Hermione, he had researched tirelessly about what was going on with her. He even went as far as looking up in past relation it would have with any other character and found something notable, yet disturbing. They were keeping a huge secret from her, something that would kill her if she ever found out.

"I don't want to know what is going on between the two of you, but all I know for certain whatever is happening won't last. It never does, right?"

Both Slytherins gave him a deathly scare, as if to silently curse him for recovering has much as he had.

"Hermione…" Harry carried on, unsure of what to say next," she's in danger. You can't deny it and just like before, and how it has always been. There is a threat amongst us and if you two would remove your fucking heads from each other's arses and look at the evidence, maybe we'll be able work together and figure this out before it's too late."

"What excuse do you have that we should even consider, Potter?" spat Zabini. "Why should we even trust you when your incarnation was the fucking bastard behind her death."

At this, Harry chuckled. "Oh, Zabini. How wrong you are."

Before either of them could stop him, he stepped up and clapped their wrists.

"Shall we witness how Malfoy killed her?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the long delay, guys and the atrociously short and unedited chapter. School just started back up and I was trying to get a feel for when I'll be able to write this semester. I leave for school and come home much later than last semester and I have four classes to keep up with. Not a whole lot, but school will always be my top priority. No excuses.

Anyway, short chapter as I said. I will edit the ones my ex-beta couldn't get to. I know some people just hate seeing the myriad of mistakes in a fic, and I'll be honest I hate editing especially after writing for so long. If anyone is interested, the position is still open. Feel free to contact me. The next two chapters will be long, and will lead straight to the inciting incident. (I hope. Sometimes, outlines take a whole different direction!)

With that said, I hope y'all are ready for what happens next :)


	15. 15

**_A/N down below_**

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Fourteen_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 **Friday November twenty-seventh, 1996**

It wasn't long after Harry had sent her on her way that Hermione was thrown into the worst sort of pain that she has ever felt. She didn't get to the other side of the corridor when the muscles in her legs gave out and white exploded behind her eyes. Her brain pounded loudly inside her skull, her heart hammered away as if she was running away from a foe, her body convulsed, forcing her to grab onto the wall, her nails clawing whilst tears chased after the other. Her fair skin felt like it was on fire, and there was a hand that gripped her in the very place that she knew could not take any more strain.

Hermione was dying.

She was convinced.

What other words could describe the immense pain, the feeling of falling and collapsing on herself at the same time?

An outpouring of pain exploded inside her and she was forced to fall to the straight to the floor and hold on for dear life. Pinned helplessly by the almighty hand of this curse, Hermione let the pain consume her until it was the only thing that she could feel. As she held back a choked sob, her brown eyes opened to find a figure standing in the distance. Whoever it was, they were no foe. A friend, perhaps. No one that meant her harm. She wished for the latter.

Tilting her head, her eyes blurry with unshed tears, her muscles aching, she was able to get a clear image of the figure as it emerged from the contorted reality of her pain.

Standing before her was Cormac McLaggen, a seventh year Gryffindor. Hardly the first person she believed would come to her aid she was thankful that someone had ventured outside their classroom and happened upon her. Begging with tearful eyes, Hermione looked up at him and he immediately came to help her.

"It's alright," he cooed soothingly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he helped her gain strength. It really must have been a play on chance because the instant that his hands touched her body the pain vanished, replacing it with the most exquisite sensation she has ever felt. "You're alright."

Hermione sighed in the utmost relief. It was as if a fresh breath of air had been given to her, the pain receded back from whence it came whilst the motion and mobility of her body was bestowed back to their rightful owner.

Cormac must have been pleased by her response because within seconds of reaching out to help her, his lips came in contact with her neck and he whispered something so scandalous that she did not know what to do with the words.

"I have got you, Princess."

The witch pushed herself out of his arms and stumbled to her feet, breathing heavily as her small hands gripped the stoned wall. Her eyes fluttered to his, watching carefully as a wicked grin formed upon his lips and he placed his hands leisurely inside his pockets.

"Jumpy, are we?" Chuckling, he moved away and smirked. A smug little thing, which gained more than an audible distaste.

She ignored his comment, providing a question of her own. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just strolling around, wondering what to do with myself." He drawled as if talking about the weather. "It _is_ my free period, after all."

Frowning at his underlying boldness to even _suggest_ such a thing, Hermione took a wary step back and collided with the sharp corner between the two corridors. Wincing, she looked back to Cormac to find that he had taken it upon himself to inspect her of injuries.

"Surely, you could have managed?" he narrowed his eyes, his voice filled with nothing but malice. His jaw was set, his hands placed right in front of him, as if bracing her for a fall that was sure to come. He certainly looked like he was taking extra precaution as to assure that she didn't get hurt.

When had the charming boy change so drastically?

Why was he acting so horrible towards her?

Even the concerned look in his eyes didn't answer either of these questions.

"One would think with Malfoy and Zabini following your shadow they would be able to keep you out of harm's way?"

"Keep me out- _what did you just say_?" Appalled, Hermione couldn't believe the words that were falling from his lips. "For you information-"

"My information is correct, mind you, Granger."

"-Whatever you've heard cannot be further from the truth!"

"Can it?" he sneered. "Tell me, Granger. How long has this charade been going on? Weeks, months?" Shaking his head, he took a huge step back and growled softly under his breath. "However long it's been, it sure as hell been one scandalous choice of topic for the lower years."

Hermione stared questioningly at him.

Why was he so interested with her relationship with the two Slytherins? Out of all the people, she would have though Harry and Ron would have had a more profuse reason to doubt the authenticity of her relationship with Draco and Blaise. But, Cormac? No, of course not. Every bit of her mind and heart screamed that he had no right to even be involved with her, so why did he look so diminished?

She cared not of his opinion, nor the school's. Not that either of them matter, but he made damn sure to make it clear of his disapproval through the singed hatred of his words and expressions. Whatever he was hiding, however, she would find out.

"You look completely unbecoming."

Hermione frowned. Not exactly what a girl wanted to hear, but that was the best he can do. Compliments were exactly his thing, she's gathered. Only when it served a higher purpose, and that purpose was bedding any willing girl that fell for his charm.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else. Oh, I don't know, pushing your plough in a broom closet?"

"Well, I would if it wasn't for a certain Gryffindor and her unwillingness to ask for help." McLaggen cross his arms over his chest and stared at her. "Well? Aren't you going to ask for my assistance?"

"Why would I?"

"You're an inch away from death, Granger." His eyes narrowed on her decrepit form. "You look sick. Have you been staying up all night, cramming for a test or something?"

Does he ever shut up?

As annoyingly observant as he was, he did have a point. She felt incredibly drained, light-headed and fatigued. While the seconds pressed on, she became more aware of the awful consequences of something that she just could not control.

"You may have everyone else fooled, Granger, but you don't have me fooled. It's those who wonder alone who are the most observant, and I can't help but appeal to your greater knowledge once again. One would have thought you would've learned your lesson the first time, Psyche."

Her breath hitched.

How on Earth did he know about her first reincarnation? Was he secretly withholding information about a shared past that she never knew about? She would very much like to know.

"H-how did you-"she gulped, licked her lips and shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."

"Poor, poor Princess." He t'sked, walking closer to her until there was no space left between them. "' _You know not of the trouble you are getting yourself into by falling in love with them_.' "

A lone image of a mere lesser God appeared before her and before she could hit the ground, McLaggen reached out and steadied her, his eyes boring into hers as she tried to decipher the very words that have been given to her.

She's heard them before, but when?

Who could have warned her about her acquaintance with the two Gods? Who could have known about her relationship with them unless…

…unless they were right there when it happened?

Hermione backed away from McLaggen, willing her legs to move when the depleted notion was lost to her. She tried with all her might to escape from him, and when she realized that she could not, McLaggen had drawn his hands so they clasped around her wrists; his breath fanned around her neck as tears trailed down hotly after the other. Utterly hopeless, her only resolution was to pray that he didn't harm her.

When he reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek, she was sure that this would be the last moment she saw before her end…

…but none came.

Only a malice sneer and storm-filled eyes.

"Never learn, do you?" he backed away and tucked his hands into his pockets once more. "Been telling you for centuries, yet here were are. In the same fucking predicament that we have found ourselves in in our first reincarnation. Has time been nothing but a burden to you?"

"You know not of what you speak."

"And you do?" He shook his head. "You have been in denial for far too long, Princess. And, as your humble servant, I am only allowed to sit back and watch you make mistake after mistake."

"Loving them is not a mistake, McLaggen!" she cried. "This obsession with me and the past has you disoriented and-"

"I may be obsessed," he stepped up to her and caressed her cheek lovingly. Wide-eyed, Hermione stared at the emptiness of his eyes for quite some time until he spoke again," But I am very open to the clearer views."

A pained expression dishonored his masculine features. There was a longing inside his eyes that Hermione wished she could process, wished that she could decipher the meaning behind. But, she couldn't. Not when the reincarnation of a temple God of Thanatos was standing right before her.

"You know," he stepped even closer, his fingers brushing over her cheek carefully," we could have been great, you and I. Rule the world as the Muggles and Humans say."

There was a teasing insinuation that she wished to not acknowledge. She didn't want anything else to do with this lunatic, especially since seeing the images of their past. Like a strong gust of wind, they came flooding back to her. Ever since her escape with her past and her Slytherins, her sanity and place of reality has been questioned countless times that even she couldn't exactly pinpoint where and when she was. The feeling of his body so close to her sparked something she never thought possible; as if flown from the outer winds, a connection left buried was resurrected. For the briefest of seconds, she remembered the feel of his lips on hers. Betrayal immediately settled.

Hermione pushed him back, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

McLaggen stared blankly at her until a call from far away sent him into an uproar.

"Always have someone watching over you, huh, Princess?" he growled as he pulled away from her. "Very well, then. I have gotten what I came for, anyway."

With a flurry of gold and red, he was gone.

Emerald replaced crimson and Hermione was thrown back into darkness from whence she came. Not only did he steal a kiss, but he had stolen something else as well.

* * *

He waited.

The perfect moment came when he sent the disturbing presence of his being toward the horrid seventh year. Almost entirely too late, but he could not risk the boy seeing him as he was swept away by the conjuring of his magic. Some unseen force had caused him to pull abruptly away from the girl. Clearly, it was for the better. It was quite obvious to him that she didn't want his touch to taint her more than it already has.

Severus Snape became one with the sharp corner of the corridor, counting the seconds when all would be safe and he could come in and help her. As much as he loathed her, it was the mere fact that he could save another couple from Aphrodite's Curse that inspired him to lend assistance.

For a cause he wished would set his own heart free, bringing closure to something that could have truly been beautiful.

 _In another life._

Oh, he wished that the other pieces of his soul could keep that promise.

As he listened to the retreating footsteps of the older Gryffindor, the Potion's Master act quickly to formulize a plan.

He had felt the disturbance earlier that day whilst teaching a bunch of second years that didn't know the difference of between the end of their wands and simple disarming charm. Hopeless with all logical sense, Snape was forced to steal himself as to allow him not to completely annihilate the entire classroom and its attendees. One thing was for certain, if it was not for the admiration he had gotten from his own loved ones, he wouldn't have even considered the idea of teaching if that meant he could have lived a happier, more carefree life.

Sighing, he peeled away from the wall, encountering another disturbing image that he had not foreseen.

Trelawney stood with her back to him, her wiry light brown hair bunched up into a large bun, her shawl placed elegantly upon her shoulders. Even behind her, he could just imagine the sort of intriguing expression that lurked across her face. As insane and exuberantly unconventional as she was, he as always gone to her whenever the need called for it. And, as he locked eyes with the slumped figure on the floor, he was correct to have called for her audience.

"How is she?" he asked instantly, making his way over to her as the older witch moved closer to examine the distressed girl.

She knelt down. Her rounded eyes glazing over for the briefest of moments as she analyzed the girl.

"Alive," she mused softly, her trembling, experienced hands waved over her sleeping state. "Exhausted, but alive."

"Will she be alright?"

Trelawney nodded. "Yes, but… Severus, there is something I must speak to you about. In regards to these three in question."

"What is it Sybill?"

Looking at the girl, her eyes more rounded than they have ever been, the old Divination's Professor let out an anguished cry.

"Whatever that boy did was not a pure act." She told him, her voice soft, low even as he paid witness to her words and prediction. "Whatever he took, whatever he is doing, it cannot be redone or given back."

"What are you trying to tell me?" he hissed. "That all this was for naught? All this fighting, the obstacles. You of all people should understand, lest be passionately supportive."

"How can one be passionate when it was the purity of her essence that has been stolen?"

Severus immediately gained silence.

As to what was this idiotic guard of Apollo planning?

* * *

The classroom was all but deserted.

An eerie light emanated from within the glossy liquid as the last remaining ingredient was added to the substance.

The silvery substance swirled gently inside the golden cauldron. As the Moonstone dissolved inside, Rosethorns was added to neutralize the solution. Fragrant spirals shot out from the depths of the potion before flowing back down, the brew simmering away peacefully once everything joined together. Cormac stared into the cauldron. His hands were placed on either side of the dark, brass holder, his fingers tense with worry. Inside, the substance swirled in an agonizing dance. The scent of divined orange and citrus wafted around him, blossoming into fruition. His eyes were alight with curiosity. He fell right into a beautifully induced trance. He could smell her. She was everywhere.

She smelled of flowers. A variety that he couldn't place. He wasn't a foliage type of man, but he could smell her all day if the witch would allot him that pleasure. Too bad she was completely out of his league, out of his grasp at the moment, or he would do just that- taste her until her essence was memorized and his tongue had come accustomed to her nectar. Even then, it would not be enough. Nothing would be able to quench the thirst of a thousand years.

Ever since the tryouts, she's been on his mind. The night that the Ginger sought him out, she had been on his mind, but for a completely different reason. Through the late hours of the night, he had fucked some nameless Ravenclaw girl to her image, even having the audacity to call out her name when he came. The girl had been pissed, but at least he was able to get the release that he wanted. She was of no importance; the real prize was literally right in front of him. Swirling like a dangerous Banshee before him. He didn't know much about Love Potions, but he knew that if he had any chance of getting with her was with Amortentia. God forbid that the potion actually worked, though he wasn't one to fall for such idiotic examples.

Cormac couldn't hold back the grin that formed upon his lips. This was exactly what he had wanted to see- the two Princes arguing and devouring one another of everything that they were worth. Potter was with them, no doubt reprimanding them for something.

Poor little Messenger God.

If he only knew the entire truth.

Perhaps then, that hatred would boil over and truly devour them all?

"How is it coming?" The bane of existence asked, a smile forming on her lips.

Ginny came from the shadows, as always. Her glowing red hair fanned around her like a large halo. Her fair skin glowed exquisitely in the lighting. If Cormac wasn't so drawn to Granger, he would have taken her right then and there. Though, she would never know, the guilt of keeping the secret from her would eventually slip out.

The Temple Goddess truly did have a gift for artful seduction. How else was she able to obtain the foolish Weasley girl? Like Goddess, like Maiden, Cormac supposed thoughtfully before his mind was drawn back to the bubbling potion in front of him.

"I trust you were able to gather the exact ingredients to complete the potion, yes? Otherwise, it will be entirely pointless."

"You doubt my abilities, Red?"

"Not doubt. Concerned, really." Ginny shrugged, coming around to give the potion a proper onceover. "Mmm, what do you smell?"

"Her cunt," he hissed. "What the fuck do you think?"

"Are you a citrus man, or flower whore?" She countered, narrowing her eyes. She could be just as unpleasant as her Goddess' Slave.

Whichever Cormac threw his answer her critic pronouncement would surely come.

"Citrus." He bit out. God, did it smell divine. That was probably due partly that she still had traces of her divine blood swimming through her veins. "Oranges and spice to be exact."

"What did you see?" she ventured. This went far beyond the scents of one's infatuation. If the witched and wizards that knew what else could come from the simple Potion of Love, they would immediately set out to destroy her very existence. Her Goddess lived off the misfortune of others, the fruitful despair of falling in love and broken hearts. She was not the Goddess of Love without a reason; Aphrodite to very easily place recognition to those who have ruined her was the sole heir behind the destruction of something she was dutifully known for. "Look carefully, McLaggen. I warned you this is the most crucial part of the ceremony."

Cormac shot the feisty witch a nasty glare. Why the hell did she have to be present whilst he simmered the remaining ounces of the potion? She never ceased to amaze him; Ginny was truly a conniving little girl, and an even bigger slut. Just how many boys has she tricked into sleeping with her in exchange to get an inch closer to the prick Zabini? He never quite understood her obsession with the Italian Pureblood. Every Slytherin was just the same; he did not know who she was, nor did he care. All he was concerned with was the witch that has taken his own heart and gave him nothing in return.

Fucking bitch.

Oh, well.

She would be his in due time.

While the potion was left to simmer inside the cauldron, the older wizard turned and stared imploringly at Ginny.

"What if it doesn't take?"

"Why wouldn't it?" she quipped, looking at him as if it was the most absurd thing she has ever heard. "You did do what I have asked of you, did you not?"

He nodded.

"If you have stolen her essence and the connection was made then there is nothing to fear."

Silence prevailed between them before Cormac spoke. "Do you think it was wise? To awaken her to the celestial part of her primordial form?"

"Such big words for a boy with a small brain."

"Watch it, Red," he warned, growling," just because I don't have the girl doesn't mean I can't fuck her ex-best friend before I slip her the potion."

His gaze returned to the potion. If her tears did take, what would they show him? Centuries of woes and heartache? Of secrets and lies? As the embodiment of the guard to Apollo, he was able to sort out the integral parts of deception.

Ginny grinned, bringing her hand to rest on the noticeable bulge in his trousers. "And, here I thought this was all mine?"

"It was," he quipped darkly, reaching down and removing her hand from his aching cock. She frowned. The image of what he was planning to do with Granger was all too fresh in his mind. "But, not anymore. Once I slip the potion into Granger's drink in a couple of days, I'll be free of you."

"Was working with me so unbearable for you?"

"Unbearable would be a correct word. But, no. Torturous, dreadful, and every other fucking adjective that could describe you."

"I've always been told that I was beautiful and enchanting," she sung.

"Not you. No, the witch you've stolen for your own personal gain, yes. But never you."

Ginny's frown deepened, contorting the façade of her disguise. For a second, the guise in which she taken faltered, and harbored forest green eyes stared into his.

"We was only just a temple maiden, McLaggen. That girl has not changed much from what she was back then."

"That is true," Cormac breathed heavily," But, I can't help want her all the more."

He turned back. Green meeting murky gold.

"As you wish," Ginny breathed. "We must discuss the ramifications. It is one thing to link your essence with yours, but if it should not take- "

"I will." Cormac said as the heat of the potion rose unexpectedly. "It has to."

"Obviously you have not had much experience with Love Potions." The witch looked beside herself. If he had overlooked something, why did she looked genuinely concerned that the potion wouldn't work? "I must advice you to break her trust in them. At least that will give you a chance of obtaining her love. A broken heart has always been the most delicious of treats."

Cormac turned away from the cauldron long enough to get a good look at the temple goddess that had taken over the girl's body. Of all her evil little tricks, she couldn't conjure herself as her true form. Merlin knew that someone could use a good scare. Upon seeing her form, one would not see the beautiful girl that stood before him. No, they would see a monster.

Hero hadn't always lived up to her name. Not only did Thanatos and Eros, the sole notions of Love and Death.

Psyche was just the final piece that made them whole and true.

She was Life. She was Soul.

* * *

Draco's heart hammered inside his chest. Every fibre of his being was standing at attention, hesitant to hear the black-haired boy's next words.

The fucking bastard. The nerve of him to even _suspect_ that he was the one who killed her. Sure, the damned Messenger God was nosy, but he didn't think he would make it as far as summoning his past incarnation and retrieving the memories of that time. He was sick to his stomach with the mere thought of what he may have discovered. Where did he go? What did he see? His resolve was slowly tearing apart and it took every bit of his strength not to reach out and strangle to smug fucker until not a single intake of air could pass through his throat.

Thank God Blaise was there to stop him.

"Potter," he treaded carefully, keeping his voice low," we don't know what you are talking about, but we are willing to sit down and talk. That is, if you will allow us."

"So you can come up with an even grander excuse and tamper with the Pensieve?" he hissed, blaming them for something that had yet to take place. Despite his rude remark, they knew they had nothing to hide. It was just neither of them thought he would be able to handle the truth. Someone had killed Hermione. Someone was trying to kill her now. Unfortunately, they haven't been able to prove their suspicion. They still needed Snape to finalize the evidence. Only then they could proceed. "I don't think so. You two are not going to mess with it if I have anything to say about it."

An angry blast of magic hit him right in the chest. As Harry stumbled back, Draco dislodged himself from Blaise's grip, reached for his wand, and attempted to cast a disarming charm, failing when Harry pulled out his own wand and casted the same charm. Draco's wand shot up into the air, landing good distance away from where he stood. A growl emanated from deep within his chest as he dove, knocked Harry out of the way, and attempted to grab his wand. Unfortunately, he was too late. The spectacled boy caught him before he could reach it, driving his fist into his side before delivering several more blows to his body out of frustration and pure exhausted anger.

Draco fell over, shielding his face as Harry introduced his hard fist to his face. Crimson blood splattered his robes, but before another blow could be given, Draco link his legs, hooking it around Harry's and twisted his body painfully so that he hovered over the boy who dare to make a fool out of him.

"Not so strong now, huh?" he snarled. "I've got to admit, you've gotten better over the years, Potter. But, you're still no match for me."

Harry coughed, wheezing as the weight of his opponent focused more brutally upon his chest. "Been practicing." A hard punch was given in the same fashion. Both were now covered in their own blood, coughing up the bodily fluids as their bodies tried to mend the broken skin and rid the sins of their feuding.

Blaise stood above them, his menacing figure looming like a tall, dark tree. Ashamed by the mere audacity of their childish behavior, he looked down upon them as if they were nothing but two boys claiming a heartfelt decadence. No one's voice reigned over the other, proving that their cries were truly all for nothing.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Dunno," grinned Harry. "Ready for another round of me kicking your arse?"

A swift kick to the side of his chest left Harry contorting to one side. Clenching the throbbing area as pain shot through him, he fell over to the left, but not without Draco speaking more than his mind entailed.

"Serves you right…"

"Why you little-"

"Stop this foolishness!" growled Blaise. "We are wasting time and your selfishness is causing us to lose valuable time. You came to us for some damn answers. Either speak of our misdeeds, or be gone!"

They stood slowly, both nursing the injuries that they sustained from each other's hands. Draco maneuvered back until his shoulder brushed against' Blaise's and he was able to calm down long enough to smear the blood from his lips.

Harry shot Blaise a look and said nothing. Anger fired up inside his eyes. If he was thinking about rejecting his offer, he had another thing coming. He stood slowly, paying mind to the bruise that was forming against his already fragile skin.

"Wouldn't you like that, hmm?" He said after some time of recovery. He pressed against his personal space and eyed him up and down. "I know what you did, Malfoy. I've seen the monster you became, what you chose to do. When you were giving the chance to save her, you broke your vows and killed her."

Something ripped between them. Like someone tearing away at the very fabric of time. Something flickered warningly before them, as if threateningly. They could not, and should not speak of such things that happened so long ago. Repeating these mistakes would irrevocable result in an unsatisfying future.

Anger boiled up inside him. As the past was risen from the depth of the ashes they left behind, the truth came out.

Blood.

Lots of blood that stained his skin, the palms of his hands, the magnificent conception that formed from the conversion of three completely different concepts and beliefs.

"What is-" Draco said, his voice shaking as his body found repulsion in the received images. "W-what the fuck is t-this?"

Harry stared at him. "Not too brilliant now, is it?" he asked smugly as the images came from his temple and projected around them in a flurry of golden light. "Now, shall we witness the end of this day?"

"We already know…" Blaise quickly said, averting his eyes from what Draco was being forced to see. He reached out to comfort him, Draco's body collapsed instantly into his arms as he raised his hands to his head and murmured something only he could hear.

"I had no other fucking choice!" cried Draco, dropping to his knees when he could no longer hold himself up and digging the palms of his hands into the corners of his eyes. "You try seeing the one you love suffer at the hands of that fucking whore! Then, you can say you've known pain!"

It was as if someone slipped him the truth serum, and unbeknownst to the heir, he was speaking the secret he has kept buried for so long.

"I never said-"

"Shut _up_." he hissed, tears rolling down his eyes as he broke down completely. Neither of them has seen the Malfoy heir so upset or wounded. It broke Blaise's heart seeing his mate in such a troubled condition. Clenching his hands at his sides, he looked away from him and bit his lip, his own eyes betraying him as an onslaught of emotions hit him with full force.

Harry stood there, not knowing what to say or do. If it was one thing that he hated was to admit defeat, to seek out hate when the time desperately called for it. Giving Blaise a knowing look, they bent down and picked him up, carrying him the best he could. Draco allowed them to help him to his feet, having lost the fight to continue on.

"If that is what you wish, then I shall grant it." he whispered to him. Harry groaned internally at the thought of where this was going to lead them.

Without another word, he motioned for them to follow. Their privacy would remain intact as the three men sought out their retribution for their shared past.

As they walked, the fell upon a scene that they wished with the entirety of their souls that had never come into fruition.

* * *

 **A/N:** Y'all might be wondering why it took me so long to update. Truth be told, this was the hardest effing chapter I have every written for this fic so far. I apologize immensely.

Good news: I'm going back and editing the chapters all next week.

Bad news: We are about half way done with the story, and there maybe an added chapter/scenes here and there. I don't like doing this. I feel like I owe it to y'all to flesh the story out a bit before proceeding. You will get an update next Friday. Think of it as Fated Fridays :) If anyone is interested, I would love a second pair of eyes so editing goes more smoothly and most, if not all, mistakes are caught. If not, that is fine.

The story will have about 2-3 Psyche, Eros, and Thanatos related chapters (The following 2-3 to be exact.) Like I said, I want to edit the chapters I have now and then go on from there.

Talk to y'all later!

Love you. Byyyyee!


	16. 16

**A/N down below**

 **As always, enjoy**

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Sixteen_

 _A Passing Glance_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

 _Chylyses stood with his back pressed against the marbled wall._ He had been standing this stiffly for quite some time that his back had begun to ache and his knees felt like they would give out and break underneath the weight of his tired body. While his eyes grew heavy, the night was just beginning. Beside him were several other worshippers of the Gods and Goddesses, all of which held a tired expression, their bodies threatening to give out as well. As he looked around the grand Hall, he could have sworn that they had been captivated by something or someone that just could not trouble him, but he was dead wrong.

It was the thick air and the insinuation of a sweet aroma that had them all so petrified with heightened senses. The Gods certainly knew how to throw a party; it would not be a celebration if the drink was not spiked and all the attendees were all over each other like animals in heat. As the air was thick with euphoria, it was also thick with sweat and bodily juices. It was during these times that he wished he did not have to pay witness to their almost ritual mating.

He looked away from the scene. Only less than twenty minutes stood between them and departure and he refused to spend the last remaining time he had by watching some God plough into some Goddess, a woman that everyone has had a fair share of.

Standing before them in all her lightly hued glory was the woman of many identities and the Goddess that they all showed up to view. Her splendid blonde hair fell in perfect curls, her blue eyes casted along each and every face that they met. Even her smile was gentle and her features composed. She appeared to be having the time of her life.

One thing was for sure as his gaze hardened on the patriots of the celebration in respect for Aphrodite, he did not like parties. It was the very reason that his master allowed him to leave early.

"Why, you must stay, Chylyses!" pleaded the Sun God. "It has only just begun!"

And that was what he was most afraid of. As notorious as they were known to be, their parties were legendary. The humans spent countless decades depicting the very thing in which he found himself detesting. All to replicate and only pay homage to the Gods and Goddesses they were worshipping. As a lesser God, one that served under Apollo, Chylyses had quite the reputation. He's had his fair share of woman, and he could not completely account his hatred for anything more than tiredness even if the simple fact remained. He was not as sociable as his counterparts, which his master knew all too well.

"As much as I would love to enjoy the evening… I must take my leave."

"And go where, my dear friend?"

Good question. With no woman to bed this night, he really did not have anywhere else to be. Maybe Apollo was right with his hidden message. Maybe he was being too much of a sour sport to fully enjoy the part for what it was actually worth.

"What can I say that will make you stay, Chylyses?" smiled Apollo. "Is it the wine? The bread? I can order more if that is what you want."

"That is quite alright," he assured him with a smile of his own. Then he sighed. "I am just tired."

"Thinking about retiring for the evening?"

"I was, but if you want my company-"

"Nonsense!" was his quick reply," I do not wish to share the night with a man, but if that is what you want then I will be more than happy to ask-"

" _That_ ," he said slowly and carefully," is _not_ what I meant, Apollo and you bloody well know that."

Apollo let out a shining laugh, one that alerted the attention of several Gods who happened to be standing in close proximity of them. They stared and listen for more than a couple of seconds before turning their attention to more important and enjoyable matters.

"I was merely trying to get a rise out of you, dear Chylyses. Can you not enjoy the night, whether it is with a woman or a man? What troubles you? I am sober enough to listen and assist you, of course and it should not be too much of a problem for me."

"I dare not say."

"Oh, come on!" urged the God of the Sun. "How long have we known each other?" He did not answer that, seeing that the joyful God was always a step ahead of him. "Centuries, I must say. And, in all that time has my advice every lead you astray?"

Chylyses shook his head, even though he wanted to deny and point out that there had been rare occasions that his advice did indeed brought him to some questionable predicaments. One of which was still fresh in the lesser God's head and one he would soon wish to forget.

"Too right you are," he continued on anyway. "As I said, what is bothering you?

He took a look around, engaging the others as the night carried on. It was the beginning of what would truly be the most enjoyable party. If only he could get himself out of this runt and actually open to the possibility of fun and excitement. He knew not what he was missing, but he hoped he found it soon because he was deathly tired of the same old things in a life that was so full and long.

Apollo was unbearably correct, something that did not happen as often as he liked to believe. The God of Sun was certainly cheerful, but that did not mean that cheerfulness was tantamount to righteousness. It was just rare for him to have struck a nerve with his servant.

"Perhaps, I will find someone to occupy my time…"

"Be it a man or a woman?" he asked, already drunk from his own gain.

Chylyses frowned. "You are not going to stop speaking of this, are you? Or, are you too drunk not to remember what I say at this very moment?"

"I do not care whether or Hermes is flying upside down with no trousers on!" he exclaimed, his hand coming to clamp down on his shoulder. "Come, Chylyses, we must partake in this silly act of embarrassment before the Messenger God is taken from our sights!"

With that, the sun man went off to find the God in the opposite direction from whence he arrived.

Hermes glided over to him, very much balanced and on two legs upon the polished floor of the Hall.

"What on earth was that about?" he asked, looking about the room for any signs of the God. "How much has he had to drink, dear Chylyses? Surely you would know not to give that idiot so much a sip of wine?"

"It is not my responsibility to watch what he drinks, Hermes," chimed the servant dryly. "If he wishes to get drunk off his arse, then he has every right to do so."

"We should at least send someone to go after him. Cronus forbid that he falls off Olympus in one of his drunken episodes."

Chylyses thought for a moment before saying," No, he will be fine. Someone will see to it that he does not. If not, then we shall celebrate his life the way he would have wanted us to. Come, I shall go fetch us some wine and food."

The party commenced with dance and entertainment the likes of which the Gods and Goddesses ever seen. As the two Gods convened together around the magnificent table that served all the assortments of treats and dishes suited for them, the air became unnaturally dark and dank. A commencing figure swept passed them as they plucked something off the serving table and brought it to their lips.

The God of Death was someone not to mess around with. Although greatly feared, it was common curtesy to invite whomever someone wished. Clearly, his attendance was nothing short of miracle as he never leaves the dark domain of Hades. Thanatos presences were a truly rare spectacle that everyone wished to take kindly to their hearts. No one dared to approach him, however. All except one other God whose nerve could not be rivaled.

"Ah, it is Thanatos and Eros." said the Messenger God carefully.

"You know those two?"

"I forget just how young you are," chuckled the older man as he nodded with acknowledgement. "Yes, I know them. Thanatos is the God of Death, whereas Eros is the God of Love. All primordial Gods and Goddesses know of their union."

"Union?"

"More like rivalry." a stunning Goddess came up to them and corrected. She held a bounty of youth and charisma as she flung her long mane off her shoulder. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously as she began to recount the ancient tale of the God's kinship. "They have been at it since the beginning of time."

"You mean," began the Lesser God," that they have been sparring for thousands of years? Why on River Styxx would they do that?"

"Oh, young God! How incredibly lucky you are not to know of their age old rivalry. Everyone who has been given life from the beginning knows of the pressure between love and death. A balance has never been made between the two!"

"There ought to be some idea on how to do so, yes?"

"None has ever come to light, my dear God." The goddess's eyes flickered over to the silent Gods before trailing slowly back to the two that stood before her. "They are more compatible than the rest of us. Myth says that they are star-crossed lovers but not have had the chance to act upon their maternal need. The mortals do have a saying. It cannot be further from the truth, either."

"And, what is this saying my beautiful maiden?" Hermes caressed her soft cheek with the back of his hand.

The Goddess melted from his touch. "It is more an idea than a saying."

"Ah, none of which that has surpassed us, hm?"

She shook with anticipation as his lips came in contact with the underside of her jaw. With a squeal, she was lifted into the air and twirled around. As her laughter died down to nothing more than soft jets of wind, the Goddess was set down on her feet and she looked appreciatively into Hermes' eyes.

"They are their lost halves." said the Goddess. "You are aware of the guiding myth of Zeus and the separation of the mortals?"

"Yes, I do."

"O, how I wish to forget!" Hermes laughed loudly. "Do continued, dear Goddess. I wish to know what your brilliant, wine-induced mind as come up with this night. You always drive me wild with intellectual conversation."

"Oh, shush, Hermes" She swatted him playfully on his shoulder. "You know very well I do not drink. I suggest you consume as much as you can tolerate. I fear that Dionysus is on his way and will no doubt drink until there is no substance left."

The Goddess seemed to forget the topic that she had so graciously laid out upon their table for she was looking around, smitten by distraction.

Hermes considered her fruitful attempt to push him away but agreed nonetheless. As he collected the beautiful girl, he turned to Chylyses and nodded at him.

"Oh, how you entertain me, Goddess."

"You do know that I am not up for much entertainment, Hermes."

"Alas," he began, smirking, "I do not. Not when there is not much entertainment in the chambers. You do put on a sensual show, however."

She giggled, trailed a hand down his naked chest. "What do you say about going away so I can show you what true entertainment is?"

"Take me to the stars and moon of Selene!" cried the God. "You do not know what you ask."

"Oh," her eyes twinkled mischievously," I think I do. But, for now, my God has questions that need to be answered." She then turned her sparkling self to Chylyses.

"You wish to know about the Mortals and their notion of love, young God?"

He nodded, indicating his desire. If not for the unwavering sense that befell them, the Goddess would not have paid much attention to him or his wish.

"Very well, then." She looked around the room for the briefest of moments. "What is it that you wish to start?"

"The beginning preferably," he breathed, drinking her splendid form.

The Goddess smiled and indulged his request.

"Before Zeus, there was Cronus, and in the commission of the God of Time, the Mortals were not as they appear today." She began, her voice hauntingly sweet, yet desperately low. "They were born with two heads, instead of one; four arms and legs, instead of two; two hearts, instead of one separate. Legends says Aphrodite did not like this, that she did not approve of how easy it was for the Mortals to find their other half. As the Goddess of Love, it was her only hope that a trial could be performed to see if their separation would bring them back together. So Zeus, after he defeated his father, unraveled the string that held them together, forcing the Mortals apart. This string is unbreakable, almost like the flesh in which it was sewn. It is said that it intertwines with everything it comes in contact with, but holds true as an arrow shooting straight. It can never be broken even if the Mortals never find their true soulmate."

Chylyses heart quickened upon hearing this revelation.

"It is said that finding your other half is no easy task. You can spend the entirety of your life searching, find someone who is compatible in many ways but does not hold your other soul. The soul is eventually reconnected, but only in death. One may die before the other is able to find it, or even might be the cruel deity that separates them. Most of the time, they do not find it." The Goddess's sparkled with unnerving wonder. "Love is a precious thing, and it is those two Gods that hold the truest form of it and they do not even know it."

She came behind the Lesser God, brought her hands to his eyes, covering them. After a murmur in their Mortal's native tongue, she removed her hands, and pointed to the two Gods.

"Do you see?" she asked.

"See what?"

"The string?" The Goddess urged with her voice. "Look."

Chylyses did as she asked, his eyes roaming over to the Gods once again. There he saw it. A thin glowing bit of light. The Gods were completely unaware of the connection that they shared, or even the tightly coiled string that connected their fingers.

Thanatos did not seem like he was even capable of love, even if that love came from Eros himself. Neither appeared any more compatible than Apollo and Daphne, but Chylyses could not help notice the strong glimmer in their connection. As he looked, there was something oddly strange about the way their string flickered, as if flaring out and signaling to something or someone else.

"Why is the string doing that? The flickering?"

"Ah," the Goddess smirked. "I was hoping you would notice. Unfortunately, I have grown tired and I am in need of a bit of an awakening myself."

Chylyses' head snapped around and he said," You will tell me now, Goddess."

She pouted, a sweet little expression before she recovered. "Very well, I will tell you." The Goddess looked to Hermes to make sure that he was not in distance. The God seemed to have found enjoyment elsewhere, having obliged the Goddess and Lesser God's wishes for conversation. He stood with his back toward them. He was picking at the fruit and popping them into his mouth, all the while looking over his shoulder. He was itching to get back into the good graces of the stolen Goddess. "What you just saw was not a figment of the imagination, young God. What you saw was not just one string, but two. Can you tell me why that may be?"

"There is another?"

"Yes, precisely, one other." Her voice was incredibly low and marked with awe. "Sometimes it is not the body that has been split, young Chylyses. In some very rare cases, it is the soul that is split instead. It is the rawest form. The soul is a very powerful life force; Mortals were made of mud, given wind as breath, and provided the fire of the time. The notion of two heads, four arms it but a metaphor of the connection of two people. But, Legend- "she then held up a single digit, her eyes glistening," never spoke of a tirade of three. And that has to be the most scandalous of all sights but one of the most dangerous of ones."

"You see, little God, Aphrodite may the Goddess of Love, but she does not bless anyone unless she is absolute sure that it will sustain."

"Sustain what?"

"Her trials." she breathed. "The Goddess is a broken woman who has been wronged by many. Even her own husband and consorts stay clear from that part of her."

"Last I recall," drawled the Lesser God," Hephaestus has her heart. Surely, that could account for something?"

"One would think, but no," the Goddess said. "The Goddess of Love is not kind when it comes to that sort of thing. She is strong-willed, brutal, but most of all, unforgiving. She seeks to put an end to something that she herself cannot obtain."

"So she is obliged to destroy a perfect union, even if the individuals in question find one another and live through her trials?"

"Exactly," the little Goddess breathed. "I place my bet that the Gods we see before us do not find their last piece. They are not even aware of the one the share between them, much less than the one that they may share with another."

Chylyses was about to counter her statement with a rather well-placed retort when Hermes came back to the Goddess' side and began caressing her body with his hands. His drunken-induced mind was swimming in large amount of beverage of the Gods. He was lost, but Chylyses was not.

He wanted to know more of this connection, and would it could possibly mean for the Gods. If they were not even aware, and he was only just finding out about it, did that mean the Goddess was not being true herself? It sounded very promising. To think someone as sensual and striving as the little Goddess could know something that even Hermes could not answer was very interesting to say the least. As he pondered these thoughts, his friend found a way to reach out to him.

"You will be fine during my absence?" Hermes asked, his voice intact despite how drunk he was.

"She was not allowed to stay and humble me with her presence?" He offered his deep remorse for the girl and for him. What a long night that still laid in front of them, indeed. The God was not notorious for foolery, but when he found a pretty girl, he immediately bedded them. Much like a lot of the Gods. Perhaps he should find someone to take under the moon. Maybe he would be free from the growing ache deep within his loins and the headache that was beginning to form. "Shall I stay and wait until you are finished?"

"You are welcomed to," Hermes said nonchalantly. "If you want to partake in some other man's feast-"

"Then I shall take my leave." Chylyses motioned to move but Hermes stopped him.

"I was joking, my friend. Stay. I shall take care of my goddess later this evening. Come, I shall answer your questions soon. For now, I have some friends I would like to introduce you in the meantime.

Chylyses did not know whether or not to trust the older God, but decided against his better judgment. Hermes has never lead him astray, unlike his master. Perhaps an evening with the Messenger God would enlighten him in some aspects. He would very much like to know more about the Gods that all fear, and all worshipped. Thanatos and Eros were just as an enigma as everyone else, but it was their presence that held such spectacular reception with him. As he walked behind Hermes and his date, his eyes drifted over to the taller of the two. He recognized him easily, as he was cloaked in the shadows of his domain and was in alliance with Hades himself.

Thanatos stood carrying darkness ever so well. As the God of Death, but his touch was gentle. Unlike his brother Hypnos, who controlled the realm of sleep, he controlled the rides of death. He was a quiet, reclusive man, finding the bearings of the Underworld more inviting than that of light bearing planes. Chylyses envied and pitied him all the same. How can someone so powerful, so rebound be reduced to nothing more than a few shadow corners of the darkest of places? Surely, he was far more capable than he let on? That he enjoyed more of the finger things and relished in the idea of living itself? Only the golden string that wrapped around his left finger could answer that.

"Eros." Hermes reached out and greeted the more handsome and more approachable of the Gods.

The dark-skinned God turned, tilting his head as he steeled himesef. He stole an impression from the Messenger God before a friendly smile sprung to his lips.

"Ah, Hermes." His voice was rich, much like the food that the party was blessed with. "I could have sworn I heard those beautiful winged sandals of yours. How are you enjoying the party?'

"It is fair." said the God. "I can say the same about you, my friend. I thought you would not make it."

"I did have other duties to attend to before I could even think about attending… Zeus must have been looking over me for I finished them with time to spare. Speaking of the God, have you seen him? I have some business to discuss with him."

"Always on the prowl for business!" laughed the God as he slapped him right on the back. "I forget just how annoying you are about your work, Eros. It must be your Mother's doing, yes?"

The God of Love frowned.

"I take that as a no?"

He did not seem like he wanted to indulge him. In fact, he seemed rather displaced. Like he wanted to be somewhere else, or talk about someone else but Hermes would not allow it.

"Come on, friend. You can speak to me. I am not too enamored by the elixir of the Gods not to listen to your woes."

Eros looked between the God and Chylyses.

This was when he chose to intervene.

"Do not mind him," said Chylyses. "He is indeed too enamored, but not by the promise of finding great conversation. I fear Dionysus spiked the wine, thought he God has yet to arrive less much be seen. You will have to forgive him."

"All is forgiven." The God murmured softly.

"I suggest you take the God away now, little Goddess before he attracts more attention. This party was called for celebration and not to stop some poor fool from falling down from Olympus." seethed an unpleasant voice.

The four of them turned and found that Thanatos had joined them. His blonde hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail; his eyes were the exact color of steel, softening his aristocratic features; his body was muscular and fit and wore the drape that was befitting of a God of his work.

Eros turned slowly, regarding the God of Death with as much patience as one was allowed.

"Ah, Thanatos. You have graced us with your presence at last. I welcome you."

The God looked between the four of them, his eyes lingering on Chylyses and then Eros. They darkened ever so slightly but enough to make the Lesser God aware of their unknown connection. He wondered if they ever would be, if it was even possible. It seemed to him that the two Gods did not even like one another; it was as if they only tolerated the other.

Hermes wasted no time in engaging them, once again leaving the Goddess vulnerable to attack.

"There it is," Hermes' Goddess murmured beside his ear. "I believe you have found it."

"Found what, exactly?"

"If you keep looking, you will find it. Aphrodite's Alliance." she answered. "There are many tales of its existence. I have seen it with countless Mortals, but never with two Gods."

"Do you believe love is blind?" he then turned, staring her and marking her for nothing but worthless play.

"No," she shook her head. "I believe it is very much vigilant. What I do not believe in is Fate."

"And you call yourself a Goddess."

"The Moirai are nothing more than ugly old women who share nothing but a single eye." The Goddess seemed not to care who she derided. Chylyses would not hear any of it. "You cannot say that it was not their doing that brought these two Gods together, hmm?"

"Are they doomed for all eternity?"

"I-I do not know what you mean."

Chylyses turned around and confronted the frightened woman. "I mean why would it be Fate's untimely hand that forces these two apart? Love comes in many forms. You of all people should be able to understand that, Aphrodite. You are the Goddess of Love, after all."

"You have seen through my guise, little God."

"There was not much of a challenge, Goddess." He smiled. "Do tell me, however, why have you found fascination with the God of Death and his companion? You seem rather obsessed with them almost to the point of embarrassment. Can you not leave the two alone and let love flourish on its own?"

The Goddess that had stood before him transformed form the young, pliable young maiden to that of a mature woman of absolute standing. Her hair, once fair and golden, fell from the high style so it ran in harsh tresses down her shoulders. The modest clothing of her choosing was thrown to the wind and became more fitting and revealing. She adopted a look of distain and evil, having been fooled by one of the lesser Gods servants. Apollo's servant no less! How incredibly angry she was by the reveal.

"I should banish you now," she sneered. "How can you be so-"

"I have done nothing wrong, my dear Goddess." Chylyses felt unbelievably self-important. He felt a sensation he has never felt before and he cherished the feeling with all his being. He came and stood in front of her, his eyes roaming over her explanatory* form. "It is you that has been made the fool and I have taken no part of your embarrassment."

Aphrodite let out a sound between a hiss and a snarl. "You little-!"

The God smirked. "Thought no one would notice, Goddess? I find that your guise quite tasteful, but just for your satisfaction. Next time, remember to keep your true nature out of the picture and maybe no one will notice your faults."

She seethed venomously at him something intelleable at him. "When I get my hands on you…"

"Oh, you will have more hands on you than you will know what to do with, I assure you." drawled the God. "Hermes is quite the catch and you have yet to grace Dionysus with your presence. I suspect he will be arriving soon."

"Ah, tis the lady of the hour!" came a familiar voice. Speak of the devil he will appear. Chylyses' smirk widened as he watched Dionysus come into the room, the shawl of his toga slung over his shoulder. His short black hair was decorated with a thick reef of flowers and leaves, and he bolstering the most devious of smiles. Yes, the god of Wine was where his heart and soul wishfully sought. A party would not be a party without him, even in dedication to the Goddess of Love. "It truly has been ages since I have last gazed upon your excellent form. Pray tell, where have you been hiding from me?"

Aphrodite looked as if she was about to vomit. Dionysus had always had favor with the Goddess, even if her supposed husband cared not to notice.

She mustered the fakest smile she could conjure. "Oh, Dionysus. You know very well that my husband had kept me away."

"Oh, he did?"

"Yes," she then turned to Chylyses. "As you know, he is very much a glutton, much like yourself."

Dionysus practically purred as he came up and grabbed her by her tiny wrists and pressed her against his hard body. She squealed in absolute delight; it was always a game to her and her message was very clear.

The Goddess was known to get her way even it called for horrendous handling of one's heart.

* * *

Several phases have passed and what happened at the party for Aphrodite remained entirely fresh in the Lesser God's mind. One thing was certain aside from having to save his master and his companion from falling to their doom was that he was perpetually hooked. The damned Goddess had gotten to him. He was finding his own obsession with the Gods even more of a pain than an experiment of the mind. Most of the time, he watched them from his basin. Sometimes he would go and search for them. The first time he did, he found something that he knew would change his entire perspective of love at once.

Aphrodite had not taken his little game with her too kindly. After some time she had reached out to Apollo, sending one of her beloved familiars to his temple, asking for the Lesser God's assistance to which he flat out refused. Apollo did not cover up how honored he felt that one of his own was called to serve the Goddess and made it his priority to make sure that his servant catered to her every wish.

"She is vile," he had protested with a hiss. "Everything about her is putrid. I would not come anywhere near that woman if she was the last consort on earth!"

To his remark, Apollo replied," No one is asking you to sheath your blade deep within her channel. You are going to her to help."

"What if that is exactly what she wants?" He narrowed his eyes. Zeus forbid that he was being asked to bed her; he would rather live with Hades then touch the dishonorable body of the Goddess. In fact, a poisonous snake was a great improvement than that of the woman that lifted her dress for anyone. "I will not go."

"You will," said his master with a convincing glare," if you value your position."

He dared bribe him like that? How absurd, how atrocious and cunning! Why, he should have the God's head for even threatening him like that! Oh, but he had, though. It was he who saved him from falling but not without allowing everyone to see how much of a fool he really was underneath the brilliance of his own light. He had acted the fool, much to his satisfaction and with discreet comicality. It pleased him greatly to see his master remove his tunic and run about in nothing but what Zeus gave him, which was not as thrilling as the Goddesses had led him to believe. His sword was not as sharp as he had said which was more than enough gratifying as well. Apollo was a huge fraud and now the entire world knew it. To say the least, he had been embarrassed and blamed him for drinking so much in the first place. He frowned at the memory even though Dionysus himself could not have stopped him from drinking. He definitely put a dent into his already enormous debt.

In the heat of the moment, which could have easily lead to something more heated he agreed. He did not want to fight with him, even if he deserved several well placed punches. He simply did not know why he was so dead set on him tending to the Goddess' needs. What he said about her was true; she was vile and wicked and he did not want anything to do with her.

"She is a dear contributor and you will show her the same respect you used to show me before you let me run around in nothing but my flesh."

"I did not let you," he corrected," you made the drunken decision to strip down to your flesh and show the world what you clearly do not have."

Apollo's eyes had darkened and he vanished before he could be on the receiving end of his wrath.

Reluctantly, he fled to the forest of Athena. For some, she found the environment quite appropriate. Who knew she had a little crush on the virgin Goddess, though? While he harbored resentment for the woman for calling him all the way out to where she said she would be waiting, he could not help feel gratified. She was sure to get an earful from him once she did finally grace him with her light, but it looked like that would only come later. Now, he would look around. Later, he could not say.

As he arrived to earth, he unknowingly disturbed one of the private of moments that he could have intruded on.

In the meadow stood a lonely figure whose curls were drawn toward the crown of her head. She wore a lovely white dress that slipped from her shoulders and was mended with golden adornments and a jewel encrusted belt that hugged her small waist. Small crystals of reflection had been sewn into the embroidery, providing the impression of casted light as she moved about the meadow wordlessly, her movements quite times and practiced. She was a vision. A true wonder and sight. She was the exact manifestation of virtue and youth, and it was through the graciousness of the Gods that he was able to watch her from afar.

The woman played with Gaea's breast gentle, her hands coming to skim the buds and plants. There was an airy glow that surrounded her as Apollo raced across the sky, Selene following close behind. Chylyses paid them no mind; his muse was right in front of him and he was determined to capture it.

"Oh, sister," a small, whimpering voice came from afar. "Why did you insist that we venture to Athena's forest? It is getting late and we must head back before nightfall."

A woman stepped into the field, her hair thrown wild and her face glistening with perspiration. It seemed like she had hiked from a fair location and was now reaping the benefits of being sourly out of shape. Chylyses looked at her with mild interest. She was pretty, but her beauty did not compare to that of her sister. If he did not know any better, he would not think that they were related so closely; he would very well mistaken them for cousins or even niece and Aunt. It was clear to him that she harbored deep resentment for something that he could not place at that moment. He decided to stay and watch.

The one that she was talking to twirled around, giggling. "But, sister, I am having such a marvelous time! I am sure Selene and Apollo would understand if we wish to have day last just a little longer, yes?"

"That is true," she seemed to be hesitant about something," but we do need to get back before it does become too dark and dangerous."

"Oh, you worry too much." said the girl as she gathered the skirt of her dress and sat down. "I am sure father will be busy as to see that we are not there. Speaking of being here, where has Ocruale gone?" she asked, dismayed. "I do hope she has not gotten lost."

A noise came from the brush as did a little squeak. It sounded like a bird that has lost its way and Chylyses had to look around to make sure he had not imagined it.

"I am here!" a voice suddenly called.

The two of them turned to see a woman with long hair as black as Nyx come treading out of the hold of the forest. Small twigs and brush had attached themselves to her dress and hair and she had the most honorable of frowns marring her pale face. Her brows were furrowed in deep angry; it was apparent that she was not a nature type of woman.

"I am displeased beyond the stars, Psyche." The woman by the name of Ocruale seethed. She waved her hand about in an angry action. "Why did you have to abandon the camp and come all the way out here?"

A playful smile manifested on the young woman's face. "I thought it would be more refreshing for you. I was being suffocated by camp and wanted to venture out."

"We were out." hissed the other. "We were in our tent."

Psyche immediately frowned. "Being in nature inside a tent and surrounded by our ladies is not 'being out', Ocruale. I wanted to explore, to pay homage to Athena before we left. Is that so much to ask?"

It appeared as if it was because her sister continued to fuss about the environment in which they found themselves in. Of course, Chylyses had to agree. He did not find favor with the Goddess at all. She was one of the worst women to hold company and it was the simple fact that he could not keep up with her as much as he would like that kept him at a safe distance. Her power was borderline insane; he was very much inclined and content to stay where he had been placed. So, he continued to watch and it was truly by someone's graces that they girls stayed.

"Oh, how I wished you were not drawn to the mundane."

"There is nothing mundane about nature." The younger of the three said with vindictiveness. "It is you who are drawn to such dry activities."

"Who said eating our meal off our servants was anything but dry?" suggested the middle child with a wink. "Besides, what is so entertaining about the wilderness? It is so bland."

"Not as bland as your choice of men, sister," giggled the older sister, Doanra. The two of them continued their playful quarrel until their little sister drew their attention and ushered them forward.

"Nothing about nature is bland." Psyche said with assertion, paying Doanra's comment no mind. "You just need open your eyes more."

"Oh, yes." said Ocruale. "That is why I do not see what you see, Psyche. Perhaps my eyes are drawn elsewhere. There are many forms of beauty and art and who said I had to take pleasure from just one?"

Chylyses came around the brush, stealing his presence the best her could. He was very much interested in what the woman had to show them and had to keep himself from firing his location as the girls stepped over the threshold of the field and back from whence they came. He had the perfect picture of Psyche as the sisters followed a seemingly welcoming path into the forest. Psyche led her sisters through the vines and canopy and deep into the bosom of Athena whilst she hummed a tune of the angels. She looked as though she could be so careful and easily be swept off her feet and float in the air. So like a darling butterfly, the girl was carried by just the wind and whatever direction she was driven to go would no doubt blossom into extraordinary fulfillment.

Psyche let out a dry laugh at her sister's quarrel. She did not seem like the type to be readily submissive to any man, much less a servant.

"I do believe you have horrible taste in men, Doanra" Ocruale chastised, continuing their discussion as a way to no end. "I do not think a more odious union could have been constructed even if Aphrodite herself were to step in and sprinkle the trails of her passion on you."

"What on earth does that mean?" The middle child gasped. "You are one to talk Have you seen the sort of company you keep? I think I would rather spent a thousand days and nights wandering the land of Gaea that be seen with any of their monsters!"

Before the eldest could even reaction, much less retort, Psyche put an immediate stop to their petty quarrel.

"Will you two stop?" she hissed. "I did not sneak out just so you could two can talk ill of one another. This was supposed to be an exciting affair, but you are making it out to be more regretful and aspiring. Can you please try to get along until this evening? If you can at least do that then I will not have any obligations to humor you two. For now, I want silence."

Doanra withered back. Ocruale chose not to speak and that all that the young woman could ask. She passed by them happily. Just a small walk away was their camp and she wanted to enjoy the last several minutes of freedom in peace rather than arguing about whose servants were superior. She could not say since all of hers were gentlemanly; none of them have ever made a pass at her and knew the consequences of even thinking about it. If they did, certain death awaited. As the youngest, she was expected to stay uncorrupted. A task that was easier than it sounded. Not that her sisters were not. They were just incredible teases in the department of the flesh.

Psyche channeled her angry in a more constructive way. As they walked, coming to a clearing, she found that happiness was an entire loss. Chylyses could see the fear, the hesitance. It was as if the little girl was not being entirely truthful to herself, as if she was dreading something that she ought to be proud of.

The answer came expectantly.

"I must say, sister, you are being quite the little ungrateful consort."

"Why do you say that?"

"You are to be married in a month and you have yet to even meet your future husband."

"I have yet to meet him because I refuse to be united with someone that I do not love."

"What does love have to do with being married?" asked Doanra critically. "Hera and Aphrodite will no doubt bless your marriage and you will be revered by all of Olympus. Your union should be a joyous one, so why do you seem the least bit content?"

Psyche turned on the spot, the anger in her eyes rising and heating her flesh until she looked like one giant mess of a crimson spirit. Her long tresses became large with humidity in a way that it made it seem like she had brought her hands to it and ruffled her hair up. And, her eyes. Oh her eyes were dark, and sensually so. There was a burning fire that he has never seen in a woman like her before. He dared stay to see what sort of reaction that would be born from her sister's inquiry.

It was very clear that she did not want to speak about her impending marriage, much less talk about how high of an honor it would be. Chylyses has witnessed firsthand the forceful means of the Goddess' hand. She paired people up in the hopes of seeing their dooms. He frowned unpleasantly at the thought. She was an evil little bitch, was she not? It only added to serve just how corruptible she was. Thinking of which, he still had not seen her. Perhaps sending him to Athena's forest had been a ploy all along? He was sure to enjoy whatever observation he was to bring up next time he saw her. That is, if he even saw her again.

"You two may find that this union between the two Kingdoms as a blessing but I see it as a curse." Her voice was haunted with the sinister bearing of promise. Her eyes dawned a new age of curiousity as her body went tense with the protection of some unnoticed God. Chylyses looked at her in awe.

The girl that was called Psyche did not seem any less inclined to what she could readily give. She moved through the branches, skimming the hands and legs of them with the tips of her fingers as if she had been doing it all her life. For someone as sheltered as she was, Chylyses longed to know what or who may have been keeping her captive and if there was anything that he could do about it. Her name came from the sound of soul, to which the forest owed her for. As a Lesser God, he felt a stirring that he never felt in a long time. A whisper of a promise; a sonnet of the future, he hoped that it had not been his imagination. If it were, he would cry to the Gods themselves and demand that she is given the gift that she would rightfully have. While he pondered, that was when he saw it.

A flutter of giving burst inside her chest. It had not been there before, so the Lesser God looked at it with trepidation. He could not quite understand what it was, or what it meant. All he knew was that he had better watch her and

The light came into existence slowly, starting off as a crazed image before solidifying and become prominently strong. It was loose, but taut with worry and the God had to make sure that this was not a trick. But there was no mistaking what was coiled around the girl. The distinctive golden string wrapped around her pinky began to manifest itself. Its airy touch went unnoticed as Psyche engaged her sisters while she guided them deeper into the forest. Chylyses followed suit, quickening his pace to match theirs. His eyes remained loyal on the string, his mind racing.

"I cannot be with someone I do not love." Psyche said slowly. "I am prepared to tell father that when the time comes. Until then, leave me be. I will be in camp shortly. I am going to pay homage to Athena for allowing us to tread her terrain."

Doanra and Ocruale looked at her solemnly but complied willingly with her wish. As they walked away, Chylyses took a daring glance at her and his heart tightened inside his chest.

She was crying.

Her tear-stained cheek glistened in the lowering sun. Apollo could not be held down much longer; Selene was catching up to him and the world would be thrown into a temporary state of blissful slumber. Psyche let all her anguish pierce the air. The little girl brought her hands to her face and wailed, shattering the precious veil between the living and dead. Her sobs alone was enough for such a disturbance to be reached. Chylyses was not going to let her go back to her sisters in shambles. He had to do something to help her.

"Why do you cry?"

Completely beyond herself, the girl stopped crying, startled.

"W-who is there?" she called out, frightened. "Show yourself!

There was no moment of hesitation with Chylyses. He did as she asked, revealing to her his celestial form. He stepped from behind a large trunk, keeping his eyes low and his demeanor nonchalant. The last thing he wanted was to scare her more.

Psyche trembled where she stood but chose not to speak out of terms. It was unbecoming of a woman of her status to even do so.

"You are afraid," he observed quietly. "There is no reason to be afraid. Speak, please. I am dying to hear you speak."

He wanted to add 'more', but he knew that she would not take too kindly knowing that he had been watching her for quite some time.

She shyly dried her tears and frowned. "it is not gentlemanly of you to watch a girl cry."

"I happened to be passing by."

"Do you always venture in places you are not welcomed?" she asked.

Chylyses furrowed his brow. "What kind of welcome is that? Why would I not be welcomed here?"

A small smile played on her lips pleasingly. "This is Athena's Forest, and it is in her nature to not allow men to pass through it."

"Oh, well. What an acknowledging choice of words." He said, clearing his throat and trying again. "I am sure that Athena will understand. I have been in her good graces for a while now."

"You do not say?"

"Oh, yes." He smiled. "I did save her from the atrocious sound of Apollo's lyre once. She has been in my debt ever since."

Not a lie at all. Apollo is a great many of things, and a romantic was one of them. He had thought it funny once to try to sway the Goddess of War. To say it gently, she did not take too kindly to his advancements, threatened to rip his jewels and feed it to a boar if he did not stop at once. Of course, he had not. Unfortunately, the Goddess found that the God chasing around the forest by her boar was more entertaining than she had hoped and had told it not to try to disarm him of his sword. Psyche found this story riveting. She absolutely adored it!

"Oh, I see now that the Goddess of this forest has a special place in her heart! It is just Apollo who seems to be the one she feels to protect herself from."

"Yes," agreed Chylyses. "He is a good man, a great warrior, but he does not seem to know what a woman's heart truly wants. I thought more with his sword than his head and it has gotten him into trouble more than he cared to admit."

"You seem to know a lot about the God. Where do you hail?"

He raised an eyebrow. No need to pretend any longer. He was a God, after all. A more modest one, but still a God. In that moment, he chose to relinquish some of his golden light, allowing it to sprinkle down upon him and shower her before it dispersed. The little girl stared at him and she shuddered involuntarily. Awe glistened in her eyes as she wondered what to do with herself. She was fighting something.

Not the kind of welcome he was looking for, but at least she did not bid him away.

"Y-you cannot be!"

Oh, but he was.

Chylyses offered little condolences. There were no words that he could express that would ease her mind. He stood before her in a small resemblance of grateful glory; the least she could do was open herself up as she had done so when his presence was nothing more than the wind caressing her skin.

"How long have you watched us?" she whispered.

He tilted his head and dared say," Long enough to know that you are quite the creature, my dear."

A silvery string appeared around his finger to which he could only see. As Chylyses engaged her, the string wove into the most impressive of ties. Soon, it was all he could see besides the beautiful woman that stood before him. It was a sign, he knew. For the God, it was something he should have taken warning to.

* * *

Aphrodite sat on her throne with a smile on her face. She had witnessed the change in the Lesser God for herself. Although she was seething with rage for what the fool of a man thought of her, she could not help think that this was a turn for the better. She sat back against the purple cushion. He would soon realize that it had been wrong of him to mess with Love, much less the woman that controlled every aspect of it. Love was very a very weak, and unforgiving. Much like herself, she pondered. Though, she was very much inclined to think that she was stronger than she appeared.

The Goddess let a sly smirk spring to her lips. She shook her head and let out a loud, resounding laugh.

"What pleases you so, my mistress?"

She turned to the sound of her temple Goddess. Hero came to her wearing a nice dress that flowed around her airlessly. Her dark red hair was thrown into a high ponytail and she wore the golden earrings that had been gifted her some time ago. Aphrodite tilted her head, the smile on her lips widening. Oh, yes. The temple Goddess looked enticing enough.

Hero has always been loyal, to which the Goddess was quick to acknowledge. She was almost enthralled by the girl, and that is the reason why she bothered to shine a light on her plans.

"Come, Hero." Aphrodite said, her eyes darkening as the young Goddess placed the fruit of her homage on the table and stepped before her. She bit her lip nervously; she hoped she had not found displeasure in her mistress. "Do not look so frightened. There is something I want to discuss with you."

Hero looked up, her bangs falling over her eyes. She was always a modest little thing. That was before she came into possession of the Goddess of Love. It was her corruption that lied underneath her demure covering was a Goddess of deception. She looked around, as if she expected someone else to take her place. No one did, so she rose from the table and came up to the throne, shivering.

"What is it, my Mistress?"

She steeled herself before looking at the reflecting water of her basin," I must ask you, what do you know about Apollo's little servant?"

"Nothing, to be honest."

"What of the Gods Thanatos and Eros?"

There was much to say about the two. They were allies, and offered great competitive matches when it suited them best. Just like Hades and Apollo, they always seemed to be trying to out weight the other. In arms, races, tournaments- nothing was off limits. Which is why she chose to ask her temple Goddess the question. It seemed to resonate with the Goddess. In her eyes and the way her cheeks flushed, Aphrodite knew. She refused to answer for some time. Hero darted her eyes around the Hall nervously. When she did, she could not meet her eye.

"A-a fair amount, I suppose."

"You suppose?" she pushed enquiringly. "Tell me, Hero. What do you make of them?"

Hero hesitated. "I… I think of them as strong, versatile men. Warriors and very pronounced."

Aphrodite held her chuckle. She knew of her feelings for the God Eros, but chose not to tease her about it. She was a temple Goddess, after all. She could only act on these feelings through the musings of her head. She was in her care, and she could allow her that freedom. Not many temple Goddesses have married and produced children. Aphrodite could see visibly see the longing in Hero's eyes. She wanted that life. She wanted a God.

Eros was a fascinating sight, as was his little friend. They went way back, and from what she had witnessed at her gathering, there was something that emerged from their separation. They were coming together, like some cosmic collision and the girl in her basin was being pulled right into it. Their attraction was inevitable; she has watched the two since the beginning, and now that the girl was in the picture she could not allow what they have to flourish and come into fruition. Soon, she suspected, they would become one but there was something that she could count on. Their union would not last. No, it was not destined. They would come together, but one of them will betray the others.

"You speak of them most respectfully," she mused, "as if you place them high on a pedestal."

"Of course," Hero said softly. "Why would I not view them as nothing less?"

"You are fond of one of them, Hero?" Aphrodite quirked an eyebrow. "Can I trick you into spilling your secrets?" She whispered, eyes shining.

"I-I cannot say." Hero confessed. As easy to embarrass, she was strong-willed to express. "I have been watching them for quite some time now." She paused then. "Why are you asking me?"

"I am bored and need my time to be occupied."

"But you spend most of your time watching them, anyway. Surely, you have found what you have been looking for?"

"A matter of viewpoint, my dear." The Goddess of Love drew a finger to her lip and sighed. "Go there and look. I want to know what you see."

Hero did. She stepped to the basin and was presented with the images that have been tormenting her since her gathering. These images were quite haunting; the thought of two Gods and some little Mortal coming together as one did not settle well with either Goddess. In fact, Hero looked frightened and was thrown into disbelief that her little infatuation, as well as Chylyses', were soon to be consorts. What Aphrodite could not deduce was the significance.

She wanted to ruin their connection. If she did not deserve the love that she was foreseeing, than no one did. Even though it was early to say, she could see the adoration, the totality of the situation and it made her rise with anger.

"How can this be?"

"You see my dilemma?"

She nodded. "Yes,and I do not see how the string could have been placed upon their fingers. I have seen that there is a third, but that cannot be, can it, Mistress? That God should not even be connected to her."

Aphrodite considered her confession. She had been watching them as well, and it looked like her inquisitive mind had been intrigued by it as well.

The Goddess stood from her throne of pillows and stalked to the basin. Its reflective face stared at her as she submerged herself into its waters. When she resurfaced, her face was struck into perpetually stone.

No, the string had not been connecting the girl to Chylyses as she had previously thought.

The string was guiding her to Thanatos and Eros.

* * *

A/N: It's been a while. I've made this as long as I possibly could. It's unedited, so I'll get it edited as soon as I can. There are two things I like to address.

1\. _Chylyses was more of a temple priest then God._

 _2\. Pcyhe's sister's names are unknown and they were extremely jealous of her. Not in this case. I wanted their relationship to be more intimate._

 _I'm expecting some feedback on this. There is a reason why I'm writing it this way, so be patient._

 _Take care._

 _See you soon!_

 _-Carolare Scarletus_


	17. 17

_As always, enjoy_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Seventeen_

 _Damnable Encounter_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

The stadium was alive with the sound of roaring laughter and victorious spree. As the entertainment came to a startling beginning, a collective gasp escaped the onlookers' lips, filling the stadium with endearing joy. Never has a spectacle between two Gods stir up the world than the one between Thanatos and Eros, two completely different deities and notions that have come together to wage war against one another. Blessed be the day that they came from their respective lands to pay great homage to Zeus. It was under his perception that the tournament and the jeers of the opposing sides were birthed in the first place. Not wanting to go against their leader, the men agreed and a new myth was born.

The Olympic Games, a festive celebration for Zeus was held every four years in a valley near the city Elis, was just beginning to take root. Participants gathered around the newly kindled fire, having been brought from the city Olympia in a long-standing tradition of torch running. Although not a leading part of the games, the spectacle was one to watch with awe and esteem.

As the stadium filled with the Gods and Goddess in rapturous cheer, the contestants demonstrated their many talents. Some practiced discus throwing while a majority opted to sprint and train with their swords. Among the men were two seemingly out of place deities, whom had gathered more unwarranted attention by their strong rivalry and ability to control the forged jewel of Hephaestus.

The sound of their swords clashing against one another was both daunting and expertly thrilling. In the stadium, their loyal companions whistled and shouted their approval as they skated across the battle floor. Their bodies were twinkling in the sheer perspiration of their efforts. From the sidelines came the rapturous roars of their companions and friends, each expressing their approval and undying appreciation to both opponents. Their continuous support was the driving force to which they reigned; with it, they could put in their best effort and provide an excellent performance to their passionate need for entertainment. Their wounds and abrasions were for their guests, not each other.

Among the crowd was Aphrodite, whose vigilance has gotten her into more trouble than she would like to admit. She was a maiden drawn to the unusual. While her husband Hephaestus became uncharacteristically gregarious with the fellow Gods and Goddesses, she had time to reflect on the tournament. With despairing eyes, she watched the spar as it began to unfold. For the strangest of reasons, a spar between two Gods have always grabbed her attention and it was not unlike her to become too fanciful with the contestants, especially when they were both so strikingly handsome and talented with their swords.

She learned early on not to look at their Godly power, but the men themselves.

She grew restless, having not expected much to come of the spar, yet there was an inspiring hope that stayed aflame within her. The Goddess of Love was alive with anticipation, something she has not felt in quite some time.

"You are enjoying yourself, Aphrodite?" asked the God of all Gods as he took a moment to engage her.

The Goddess of Love glanced behind him, eyeing his wife carefully. The sheer brazen action of it should have sent fireworks to fly across all of Apollo's damnable domain. His wife did not seem pleased with the development. With hair so golden that it almost blended into the sight of the sun, skin so fair, and eyes so stubborn, Hera was considered the hallmark of beauty. She was very temperamental; however, and any engagement would have to be done quickly and without her knowledge. She did not want to be behind the fire of her fatal blow.

Aphrodite sat back in her cushioned throne and nodded. "Yes, more so than I thought I would. Thank you, Zeus. You have no idea how much it pleases us that you have invited us to witness such a match."

"Another successful year, yes?"

"If it pleases you, then, of course."

That was it, however. He really would never know just how delighted they both were. After such a long hiatus, it was entirely refreshing to have been invited to witness such an event. She truly was grateful. Being cooped up in a fired horizon of their dwellings was causing the Goddess to become sick. She sought adventure and action in any form that it would take possession.

"Tell me, Aphrodite." Zeus came to say some time later. "What is troubling."

"Who says there is something troubling me, Zeus?" she countered stubbornly. "I am simply trying to enjoy this festive presentation. Though, the prelimaries are quite boring."

"Shall I ask to bring in tigers to quench your thirst for violence?"

"I do not see how that would vanquish such a damning thirst." She quipped dejectedly. "Do not mind me, my dear father. I will simply pretend to enjoy these festivities. I fear that I may adjourn to my own throne if I cannot find peace soon."

"Are you sure you are feeling well, my dear?" Zeus made the motion to summon a servant before Aphrodite raised a hand to stop him. "You are certain?"

She nodded. "Yes, more than certain."

"Very well. I shall keep you company until the games start or until Hera has let go of her foolish jealousy."

"Hera jealous?" she almost laughed at the thought. "What does she have jealous for?"

"I am spending my time with a beautiful Goddess, and not consorting with the witch of Olympius."

"I take it she is still upset about your conquests? I suppose she does look as stubborn as she appears. Why, by the Gods, does she let go of this idiotic nature. It cannot be good for her image or health, surely."

Zeus let out a booming laugh, as it was heard by every occupant of the stadium. "My dear! Hera is not known to be generous with her clemency. There is not a single forgiving fibre in her being, as you may know. Pray tell me, if you are true to your word, what has come of this humorous conversation. I simple will not take any reasoning you may have fabricated as a rightful answer, Goddess. I must know."

Aphrodite feigned innocence. "I simply wanted to hear your joyous laughter, father. Can a daughter not wish that after such a long time without hearing it?"

"That depends, daughter. What will come out of this conversation? What is that you want?"

The Goddess instantly stopped her banter.

What _was_ it that she wanted?

Her eyes gave way and travelled down to where to two Gods were still at arms. Engaging in her deepest fantasies, she could uncover exactly what her heart desired, and it leapt for dearest joy.

Eros had the look of deep concentration etched on his perfectly chiseled face. His eyes were dark with fury, and his brows were furrowed in the way that made his appearance look darker than normally envisioned. The God had adopted a persona that she previous thought was not possible to see him sport. With anger so vividly drawn, she let out a silent gasp she had been holding out. Her heart did another abnormal jump and she looked away.

"I cannot tell you." She finally said, knowing he would continue to probe.

"Why is that?"

"Because you cannot give it to me, father." That was the end of the conversation.

In her many years, she has never felt such a pull. As alluring and tempting as it was, her will was much stronger and stable. Perhaps, when the time came and the planets aligned perfectly, she would be able to submit to the feeling that was beginning to overwhelm her. Until then, she was just a bystander to such strong emotions and a prisoner within her own vice.

"If you do not wish to tell me, then I will not probe no more." He said softly, before taking a gander around them.

"Thank you, father."

"Anything for you, my dear."

As the opening ceremony commenced, Aphrodite had time to reflect. As did Zeus, she noted.

"Hephaestus has come a long way, then." observed Zeus, eyes sparkling down at the arena. "It is highly unlike him to engage with others, much less see the enchantments that his skills are known to create."

"I do know what you mean." She told him in confidence. "Though, what are you speaking of when you say the enchantments that he created? I was under the impression that this spar was for entertainment only. Have I missed something?"

Zeus looked at her with a sly grin. "Why, my dear Goddess, he has only forged the greatest weapons known to the mortals! Who else could have constructed a more perfect weapon? I say, I cannot I have seen a more engaging spar! Yes, it seems that you were misinformed. Though, entertainment, I fear that this one is for the win. Thanatos and Eros are star-crossed rivals; I cannot think of another spectacle that has took place or will take place that will better fit the palate! I daresay, it will be a battle of a century. Perhaps even time."

Aphrodite was quick to look at her husband, uncharacteristic admiration flashing across her light features. Her Hephaestus forged such weapons? It was not heard of for him to lend his skills for the use of the greater good. Who knew that her husband was so keen to share and would help a fellow God? The story sounded like another that she knew of. As Zeus turned to speak to his wife, the Goddess looking at her as if she were a snake that had bitten her neck, Aphrodite's reflections got the best of her and she found herself drifting away from reality and to the doors of her thoughts.

Her dear Hephaestus was hiding something from her. To which acknowledged, she supposed her intrigue was becoming a rather spoiling insistent chatter that she could not rid herself of. She had to know his reason behind creating such an enchanting and dangerous weapon.

Unless of course…

…Magick!

Aphrodite furrowed her brows in worry.

"My dear father, do not tell me he has brushed the fragile tapestry that is magick." She asked suddenly. "Such heresy is forbidden."

Zeus looked at the Goddess considering before divulging what he knew about the God. "I cannot say that it was his will to use magick, Aphrodite. It is yet an unpredictable substance that the mortals are just finding fascination in."

"Foolish charm, if you were to ask me." She murmured thoughtfully. For a moment, she was silent. "Pray tell me, if what you are saying is true, then I have nothing to worry about."

"I can honestly say that your fear is of your own imagination." He said softly. "Your husband knows not to mess with magick, and if I were to find out that he has, there will be dire consequences."

"I do hope so."

Zeus said nothing to this, and instead ventured to lay back against his mighty pillows. As wine and food was presented to him, he took it upon himself to stir the conversation in a more favorable direction.

"Though the topic of what we just discussed is still fresh in our minds, it pleases me to see that he has been treating you better than he has in the past. I suspect that your consorting has come to a halt, as well." Zeus said in a low voice. He had come back to speak with her. His eyes searched hers, and she could feel him practically entwine his being with hers to see if there was any sign of struggle. Evidently, he found none, and that pleased him even more.

"Yes, he has not given me any reason to not trust him," the Goddess murmured, hoping he would respect her words. "My husband was brutal before, but I think he is starting to understand human nature. Do you not agree?"

"Of course, my dear Goddess!" the God of Gods bellowed loudly before chuckling. "Cheer up, Aphrodite. I did not spill my seed into the sea and watched you be birthed from the foam for nothing, yes? Life is but a passing moment, and we must take it by the horns and make the most of it."

-Add more-

She watched him leave with scorn. How he settled upon that truth was absurd. As Zeus walked away, she shot invisible lightning bolts at his back, praying to the Gods that he would stumble and fall.

Her eyes sought out the Gods fighting for their lives.

In that instant, she became absorbed.

They were so much alike, yet so very different, as she noticed years ago in Artemis' forest. It had been on an occasion such as this one where they were first introduced to the idea of battling for entertainment. Granted, the Gods and Goddesses of the time were happy to oblige any type of extracurricular activities and strenuous attributes so the notion of it was not entirely unheard of. What surprised her the most was that her husband had so readily agreed when in the past, he would have sent anyone who spoke to him on their merry little way? Times have truly gotten to them all; a change was occurring.

Discreetly, she looked down.

She licked her lips, her blue eyes shimmering in the light of Olympus. By the Gods there was no better sport than watching them fight to the death! Nothing spurred her on more. There was no greater pleasure that she knew that was true. Her eyes took their fill of them.

Her target was the less aggressive of the two and all the more striking.

Eros, God of Love, was truly made for her. He had been within her match for decades now, if only he would open his eyes. She has watched him grow from a little boy and into the man that he was this night. Oh, yes. She was indeed impressed. Who would not be with skin so dark and sun-kissed by the God of the Sun himself to the feathery light tresses that was his hair? Dark eyes so penetrating that it tore her raw and right to the very core of her body. If looks could bring pleasure, his surely did. She has never seen such a specimen in all her life. Aphrodite was nothing more than infatuated by what she could not have.

The Gods help her.

She was lusting over such a young man and flesh that it really did make it seem like she was improper! Blast the river, she needed to stop! Hark her yearning calls and silence them to the deepest part of the Underworld!

"My dear wife, what troubles you?" asked a rather rough voice. She arched into his touch as Hephaestus' hand came around her waist and pulled her to him. His hot breath ran down her neck and she let out a moan, cherishing the feel of his naked chest in remembrance of what they did the night before. "Too much excitement can be dreadfully terrible on your health."

"I can say the same to you, husband. "she said weakly. "Such exuberant activities can leave one parched. I feel like my body is weightless."

"Must I remind you of our time last night?" growled the God of Fire. "We can put on a show for our peers. I know you like being watched like some fantastic showing, like the animal of sex that you have become."

This made the Goddess chuckle. "No, I do not wish so. Besides, you are wholly mine. No one else may see you at your finest pleasure and be the one to ride the waves of passion with you."

"Same to you, Goddess," he growled playfully. Then, he bent his head and stole a kiss. It was a demanding, hard kiss, one that left her completely breathless. And, by the time he pulled away, she was weak and desperate for more. "I shall continue be the one to instigate our union later, wife."

"Oh, please do!" she breathed, looking at him.

He chuckled at her outpouring. "You are my darling flower."

"And, you are my diamond in the rough." She pressed herself against him and melted into his body. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, granted that I do not normally indulge in such activities."

"The other God's have been favoring you?"

"More so than recently."

"Enlighten me, is what the almighty God said is true? Did you forge the weapons being used in today's match?"

Hephaestus looked down at her, and although he was not the handsomest God she knew, she still thought of him still as the lovely man that she fell in love with so many years ago. Such thoughts of adultery vanished from her mind. She could not live with herself if she ever hurt him!

"Zeus spoken of my involvement." He asked not in a questionable, but trialing way. Aphrodite met his gaze and nodded. He sighed. "I suppose I should speak the truth, then. Yes, my wife. I did forge the weapons. The Gods be damned, but it is not like I went against the rules of tournament."

"It is true, then?" she whispered, unaware of the attention that she might be drawing."

"What do you speak of, my queen?"

"Do you know how much trouble they could get into?" seethed the Goddess. Magick was a sensitive notion. Being involved with those who possessed it meant certain doom. "Were you not aware of the implications-"

Hephaestus gripped her waist far harder than he intended to just to shut her mouth. As gentle as he appeared despite the mutterings and whispers of others, he still held that tough persona of a God not to be messed with. Even for a God of Fire.

"I will not be questioned, woman." He murmured under his breath. It was moments like these that forced Aphrodite to see the true nature of her husband. Their marriage had never been a happy one, thus these insatiable thoughts and trysts about other Gods and Goddesses. He knew, and of course he instilled his power over her. He was not to be trifled with. "The Gods asked me to. That is all I will tell you."

"Magick cannot be trusted!"

"Then, I shall put my trust elsewhere. Cleary, neither can you."

Aphrodite was eternally grateful the second her husband stood to greet some late arrivals. From where she sat, she could witness the arousal of Hephaestus as he planted lingering kisses upon a younger Goddess, his face lit with extreme lust. If only he looked at her like that… there had been a time that he did, but not now. Thus, she turned toward her real treasure, throwing herself into the tournament.

Things had quickly escalated.

The games were set to begin before sunset, and Thanatos and Eros were still in the midst of a fatal battle. She could feel the breast of Gaia shift as if exhaling a long held breath, and she shuddered along with the strand land.

Thanatos swerved sharply to the left, Eros following in determined pursuit. It seemed as if the God of Love had read his unearthly signal. They fought in perfect coordination. One did not move unless the other moved with him. Like great streams, their arms and legs rose and fell in fluid motion.

"Do not back away now, Thanatos!" bellowed the God.

He 'tsk'd' with studied aggravation. The God would not see or live long to hear of it. He was sure.

Pulling his arm back, Thanatos swerved steadily to the left, missing his opponent's attack by a mere fraction of second. Eros fell forward, sword held predominantly in his right hand as he charged forward and caught him by surprise. It was a quick catch, but he was able to take advantage of his moment of confusion and draw his sword. The sound of sliced skin deafened her; with the gift of hearing so great, anyone would be sickened by its atrocious sound. The God of Death let out a hair-rising rumble that shook the arena to its very core. Having residue origins in the earth, it must have shaken not only Olympus itself but the surrounding land as well. The pain, as one could imagine, was not all that bad, but it was enough to drop the God's defense and open him up for a more direct attack. Eros took the chance. Drawing his sword back, he ran straight forward, delving front first into his opponent.

Until he disappeared.

T'was the sound of sharpness that struck the audience with resounding awe.

With great alacrity, Thanatos made himself known. He pressed the tip of his sword against the God of Love's backside, triumphant.

"I see decades of practice still have not done any good, brother. What say you? Forfeit and I was save you your dignity."

During their exchanges of battle, Aphrodite became hyper aware of a time where they had not been as compatible. It had been a time of great discern; the mortals were fearful of them, seeing as they were dying of some ailment that none of the Gods or Goddesses of Olympus could cure. They were losing their tokens and offering. And, anyone who has faced the certain doom knows of what she spoke of. To lose such a thing would be tantamount to an eternity of death. Those who were luckier than others were whisked away to the forgotten land, never to be retrieved, lest remembered. Mortals were such harsh creatures; and, they said that they were the cruel ones. No one deserved to be forgotten. She could not recall which one it had been, but the Gods fought tooth and nail to ensure that they came out the victory. Instead of one, they both survived, thus the continuation of their offerings and blessings. The mortals swam in the lakes they created and prayed to them as much as every God and Goddess known to man.

Thanatos was a sly opponent, having drawn in the weaker matter into battle. Aphrodite had to give him props; her husband would surely agree with her.

Her eyes glossed over at the images that were presented to her. They have come so far, yet were so distantly separated that it troubled her.

"You wish," said the God with a grunt. "The Gods must be secretly frowning down upon you, Thanatos. You fight like I am but a child. Where is the challenge besides you hiding behind the willow of magick?"

"Are you suggesting," he started, angling his head so he could look at the God more properly," that the Gods did not bless me with enough of talent?"

"What you do think, old friend?"

"I think," Thanatos began before shifting his weight from one side to the other," you are wrong."

In an instant, Thanatos had broken free from Eros' hold and was open in stance, sword drawn, eyes blazing. If a moment had been entirely deceptive, this one is not it. A thousand years of sworn betrothal and adversaries at arm shined through the window of his eyes. Aphrodite held onto her breath, entirely engrossed by their performance; there had not been one like this in a very long time. Not since Apollo challenged Hermes. And what a disastrous thing their fight could have turned into. Let it say, Artemis was not so happy that her precious forest was threatened in such a way and that the two Gods were never built to bent over so low.

Aphrodite let out an unflattering noise caught between a snort and a laugh. As she reclined, relaxed, a few seats the Gods of Wealth let the audience know about their opinions of the sport. Tilting her head, she observed them just as they rose from their seats and proclaimed that the Gods were cheating.

"What a load of rubbage!" bellowed the twin Gods Ploutos and Philomelos. They were known to wager on a tournament, and it seemed that they had their heart's set on Eros winning.

They threw their approbation to the wind in their seats, their companions glaring at them as Dionysus bellowed with laughter, his belly shaking.

"Speaking of the Gods' blessing, it seems that you have not received any either! And, there are two of you! What are the odds?"

"Oh, shut it." said Philomelos scornfully.

"We still think Eros is going to pull through." his brother stated firmly. "You have not seen him fight yet, Dionysus."

The God of wine laughed gleefully. "I have already paid witness to what they are capable of, boys! What more do I need?"

"Wait and watch," they sung in perfect union. "He will pull through.

"I do not think so, boys." said the God of wine ruefully. He just did not believe their take on the match. "Tell you what, as Zeus as my witness, I shall pay you both handsomely if Eros pulls through."

"I say he fumbles at the end but pulls through at the very last minute."

"He will do such a thing, brother."

"You do not agree?"

"I do." Philomelos said. "But, not in the vision that you think. I believe he will make it seem like Thanatos has won only to prove him wrong."

"How?" His twin urged.

The God grinned. "Oh, Eros will win alright. But Thanatos will end the game."

Aphrodite watched the banter between the three Gods with an odd sense of discomfort. Surely, she would have wagered on either one; she found them delightfully intriguing. With their prowess and strength, any Goddess would fall for them. They were just so handsome and strong; yet, there was one thing that has been bothering her all along.

"You do not know the Gods as well as you are letting on." Said one of the twins. He leaned back in his seat, looked down at the platform and let out a chuckle. "I do not know if you are aware of the sort of bond that they share. Two thousand years of rivalry, and what has it shown? They are matched."

"What do you mean by matched?" The God of Wine was intrigued. "Tell me, boy."

Philomelos grinned. "They are at the end of their ropes. This tournament will be their deal breaker."

"You mean to say that they will certainly fight to the death?"

"I did not say that." said the twin, waving his hand. "I mean, they will certainly find out who is the best by the end of the tournament. That is all that I can give."

-Add more-

What Philomelos said disturbed her. Whatever games he spoke of was something that became an interesting piece of information that she would love to get her hands on.

The Goddess of Love sighed.

"Enjoying yourself, Aphrodite," asked a resentful, seething voice.

The Goddess had to bit her lip to prevent herself from having too much fun. She then turned, coming face to face with the God that tickled her more than anyone has ever been able to do. Chylyses stood there in golden armor, looking like he was prepared to fight to the death. If the Gods were to bless her now, she hopes it would be true. The lesser God was but a thorn in her backside. He looked ready to do so, anyway. The way he greeted her with absolute hatred, it came to surprise to her that he had come to despise her; after all, that was her specialty.

"Why, yes," she said gleefully, allowing her joy wash over her. "It is so good to see you, Chylyses."

He stood there, his eyes iridescent and murky. Oh, how she loved when their eyes sparkled! It made her want to lick her lips and do things to him…

She stopped herself. Sometimes, desire got away from her and she was forced to conceal it.

"I am sure it is," he said stiffly.

"How is Apollo?"

She only asked to rile the poor fool up. Of course she knew of what happened some phases prior. After all, she _had_ been the one to do it.

"Better now. He suffered a minor accident all to do to your negligence. I think an apology is in order.

"Oh," she waved her hand and laughed. "I do not owe him an apology. It is his fault he scared my ponies. He would not be in the sort of mess that he is in if he had not."

"You," he said carefully; she could feel the anger rising," opened their gate on purpose."

"I did no such thing!" she cried, alerting the attention of the surrounding Gods and Goddesses. He was quick to pretend to calm her down.

"I think it would wise to break the agreement that we had. I do not wish to associate myself with you anymore."

"You would not dare," she seethed under her breath. Had it not been for her husband's concerned hand being placed on her shoulder and that of Hera's accusing one she would have said more. "You were promised to me."

"I was promised to a great deal of women, Aphrodite. It does not make you special." He told her with a hint of amusement in his voice.

She looked at him as she was ready to strike him right then and there.

Instead, Chylyses ignored her pleading looks of despair. It was obvious that he had come to say what he wished and he was well on his way to leave when Aphrodite shot her arm out in an attempt to stop him.

"What has come about this?"

"Things have changed," he told her simply. "It has been months, and I have yet to receive what I so rightfully deserve."

"It is not just you that is involved." Aphrodite hissed. "There is more to the equation than you can possibly comprehend."

"What have you found?"

"Come sit with me." she said, smiling. "I fancy being in your unyielding presence."

He raised an eyebrow, thinking nothing of her command.

She looked over to where Apollo sat too absorbed with the match. His presence would not be missed; she was free to do with him as she wished. As she has been during the last few phases. Besides, there was something she needed to speak to him about. And he knew very well what it was.

"I saw you there, Chylyses. In Athena's forest and I saw the way you looked at that mortal girl. She was quite beautiful, yes?"

Her heart pinched. She was not partial to say another woman was beautiful. She only had herself in her own eyes.

"Ah, yes." The Lesser God shifted where he stood before taking a seat. "Why do you bring it up?"

Aphrodite had the nerve to chuckle at him. "Because I may have a proposition for you, boy. Do you see that dark God in the arena?"

Chylyses did as he was asked and looked, finding the two Gods pitted against another. Thanatos was closing in swiftly, his sword of choice projected out before him as he charged forward. Eros, the only she indicated to, was poised in a retaliating state. His dejection was palpable, and he could not help feel for the older God.

"Yes, I see him. What of him?"

"He has taken my heart," she said sadly. "I am sure you see the string I have spoken of, yes? Well, there is another. You thought the one you saw with the girl was connecting to yours, but it was not. It is connected to theirs."

"I-it cannot be," he said, stunned. "How is that possible? You are the Goddess who reigns over love. Why did not see this coming?"

"I did." Aphrodite sighed. "I am afraid it so, but that is not the point. The point is that I can sway it. A tirade of three is not meant to be, as I have said. I have seen it once before and it did not end up well, as you can imagine. They destroyed themselves out of spiteful revenge. I simply cannot allow that to happen again, nor do I wish to relive the day."

"Yes, as you have told me. What of it?" asked the Lesser God. "If they cannot exist properly together, what is there to do."

"You seek to make her yours, my dear God!" laughed the Goddess amusingly. "Anyone can see it from miles that you have come to fancy her. Pray tell me, and do not send those prayers elsewhere, what is your muse doing this day?"

"She-"he stopped himself, snapping his mouth shut and setting his jaw.

Oh, but if he shut his mind.

Intoning her thoughts, she was able to connect to his mind without the slight of abruptions. He was indeed the weakest and most foolish Lesser God she has ever come across, so it did not surprise her that he would do such a thing. He was an open book and she was hungry for what he had to share.

"She is traveling."

"Where has her travels taken her?"

"Athena's forest last I have seen. They are heading north as we speak."

"Tell me, Chylyses. Where does she hail?"

"From nobility." He said, hurt. "She has two elder sisters who are quite as beautiful but they cannot compare to her. She has no competition. No light can be held to her. Even you would do well to seek her out through wickedness."

"Why on Olympus would I do that?"

"Why, she is said to be more beautiful than you." The Lesser God was happy to oblige the joke that was set up to deter her.

"I have seen her," he continued. "I have spoken to her and she opened up to me like all beautiful girls often do. She is unlike anyone I have ever seen; she has a breath of something that I simply cannot place. It is as if she is life itself, reincarnated into a mortal. There must be retribution."

Everything came into piece one by one. The tirade of three, the string, the love affair that would go horribly amiss. It was unlike her not to make the connection, especially so late. Nothing could have prepared him for the vicious smile that her face produced in spite of itself. Her thoughts were not projected then, but it came to pass than when they do, everyone involved would be in for a rude awakening.

Someone would soon lose themselves before this act could ever be lured into fruition.

She must speak to the Fates.

"I need to abide my time," she told him softly. The deliberate ease of her words swayed him, but did not draw too much attention to the true nature of her plans. Which was to stomp the budding romance between the deities first before finally directing her malicious earnings toward the girl. By the Gods, someone forgive her.

"What is your bidding?"

A one of a kind grin bloomed from her lips. "I require your assistance in a small matter. When the moon is full, and Selene has made her rounds of the night, I want you to travel to where this girl is stealing. There, as I know to be true, I want you to steal a slice of her hair and bring back to me. A potion can be used to tear the lover's apart before there is any chance of them meeting. But, you must do it before the full moon. Otherwise, their meeting will be locked into the Fate's control and our plan may all be for not."

"What if I cannot procure a piece before the full moon?"

"Have you not been trailing her?" When he nodded his head, she continued. "Simply go to Athena and ask where the girl has travelled. It is likely she found refuge in her forests often. I take it she is a very devoted to the Gods, and any activity will be thrown to her dictation and imagery."

It took a moment for Chylyses to consider.

"You are devious." The Lesser God committed. "Mark my words, Goddess. Knowing what I know about you, about love- nothing good will come with tampering with something that ought to be left alone."

"Why, dear boy." She was quick to answer. "My devotion is to the art of romance. And, it is a sin to even invoke such claims that you have on me. I am simply growing tired of such unpleasantries. For the Goddess of Love, do you not believe that I deserve to love and be loved? Is it such a curse, really? Or a fabrication of the mortals that serve us?"

"To what being?"

"The very conductor of this confounded notion!" Under a whispering breath, she bided unto him the real reason why she despised her nature. Once she did, Chylyses looked at her with the most hateful of expressions.

"You are a dying star in the constellation that our Father envisioned."

"And you are minuscule little proportion that should not have not been born." She seethed. "Though, you would do well with what I have told you. As the Fates decide who lives and who decides, I hold torch to all my devoted followers. And, you pathetic God, picked the wrong Goddess to form an alliance with. Now, be gone."

At the whistling sound of the wind, the God eye's darkened and said no more. With a fleeing glance to which she did not take notice, he left, leaving her to her thoughts.

Whilst she was distracted with conversation, the God's spar had taken on a darker note.

They were now standing a fair distance apart, breathing heavily as they tried to read the other's distinctive patterns. Their eyes switched from one another, to where they believed they would dive, but was quick to find out that their predictions were entirely wrong.

Leaning back against her cushions, she busied herself with a story, one that she remembered most vividly to this day.

She had been foraging in a nearby forest, far from the creeks of Poseidon's stream when she spotted him. Aphrodite made quick haste as she tried to keep up with the waring Gods, their target fast and approaching. Through the dense jungle that the forest nymphs provided, she could make clear through the greenery and into open land.

There, the fields began to collectively transpire. Gaia opened the scene to her and she was able to breath in a fresh bout of air before averting her attention toward the noise that came from the other side of the bough. Crouching down like the animals that dwelled there, she caught sight of his glowing form before hearing his booming demands cross from the living into the world of the dead.

The God of Death was among them.

* * *

Thanatos made quick movements through the brush. His eyes remained on the life sat at the banks of the river. It was a small doe, and if he was correct, her life about to come a sudden end. He needed to act fast, or he could not carry her soul onto paradise. Animals were entirely different from mortals. They did not complain, hold any grievances. He could send the doe to the door of Hades and she would not be any different than she was at that very moment. She was too trusting, which is why she found herself in the situation that she was in, behind the sharp point of his arrow.

The God of Death loved the sport. A day never passed when he did not indulge in the hunt. Along with his trusty bow and arrow, he had ineloquently gained a partner in arms, and that was the God of the Sun. The man had a funny way of exuberance; his enthusiasm was overwhelming and at times completely unethical. For a god to establish such degree of energy was unheard of. It was just that Thanatos was not used to it.

He looked on at him with consideration before his catch stole his attention. Apollo was

The doe's head was bowed in such a way that death would come quickly. She need not worry about suffering and he would not have to worry about spilling too much blood. Thanatos walked slowly forward, making his presence nothing but dead silence. The forest did well to conceal them. Just as when he was about to pull his bow back and let his arrow go, the blasted God had to open his mouth.

"That is a lovely animal." Apollo said before him, his voice carrying far and wide. He scared everything within reach. "Why does it run?"

Thanatos' eyes widened in disbelief, and then turned to face the God.

"Why does it run?" he asked. "It ran because you opened your bloody mouth! I know now not to bring you on a hunt again!"

"I cannot possibly be that bad."

"We have been here three days and I have yet to catch the doe that is destined to die at my hands."

Apollo looked at the God of Death skeptically. His ears must have deceived him. Evidently, he had heard right by the look the God was giving him and he decided to keep his mouth shut. There was no use in arguing with him, anyway. Not that he ever saw reason; he chose not to.

"Come," he said gruffly and with vehemence. "We shall take substance and I shall equip you with every reason to all the mortals that you are not fit for hunt. Then, perhaps, I will find the doe and rid myself of you."

The God frowned. As horrible with manners as he was, never did he think that he would be this reverse to not being in someone's presence. If he had not known any better, he would say he really messed things up.

Apollo looked back at where the hoe had been in deep contemplation. The hoe had been in the prime of her life, so why bother messing with fate and life as it grew right before their eyes? It was up to the Fate's anyway as they conducted the beginning, middle, and end of animals and the mortals. There had to be an explanation to his resolve and he would no sooner run around in the flesh in front of his fellow Gods than to sit ideally by and not find out what was troubling him.

"Thanatos, my dear friend." was what he dreaded the most. There was no 'dear' about him and the blasted God would do well to learn that.

"Apollo, for the last time, do not call my name like that. I am not an acquaintance."

"Then, what do you call this." He gestured between them.

The God let out an agitated growl. "A mistake." He told him. "It was a mistake to take you with me. I knew very well that you would mess it up somehow."

"Oh, I cannot be that bad."

"You _are_." He snarled, lifting his bow and looking back at him as they walked. "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were not as physically fit to stand by me."

"You make it sound more than we actually are."

"If we are to be friends, Apollo, there are some things that you will have to learn. It may not be as simple or even pleasant, but you will learn."

Apollo took his chance and prayed to every God and Goddess. He received his support, as they were eager. They, too, wanted to know and he took it upon himself to find out what sort of secret lie beneath his cape.

The God sat back and jutted his head in the direction from whence they came. "What was that all about, then? You are the God of Death, yet you act as if everything has to be touched by you."

"I does." The man said flatly.

"Why is that?" he asked despite himself. "Why not allow death, as you say, come naturally?"

"It does." His voice was now rather sharp. "Why must you touch your hand upon the sun?" he seethed. "It is not your place to ask why I do what I do; it is within your inclination to just stay away."

"But, I do not wish to."

"Then you are a fool."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. The only thing that kept them together was the sizzle of their meal and the taking of a much needed drink. They sat there in their own pondering. In all the time that Apollo has known him, never has Thanatos threatened him in such a way. Even for a God, he was not prone to open up his heart and let anyone in. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was death and no one wanted to consort with him.

"I cannot help feel that there is something that you are not telling me, Thanatos. Care to share."

"There is nothing to share." He said gruffly. "It would do you well to drop it."

"Thanatos, please, I-"

"Silence," He commanded suddenly as he took in the surroundings. "I hear something."

The two Gods looked up and turned their heads. Their ears tuned into the scope of the forest. Athena's wards hasd not been breached, but for some strange reason they felt the sensations of something sinister. They rose to their feet and headed off deep into the forest, following the sounds only they could hear. What they found was something to make a spectacle of.

Hidden behind a line of trees and by the banks of a small river was the doe that they had spotted earlier in their hunt. She rested by the river, her head drawn toward her body and a very visible wound above her muscular shoulder blade. There was a distinguishable sound of anguish that fell from her closed mouth. She was very much in pain.

"As I thought." Thanatos murmured. "They already came."

"Who?"

"The savages who did this." He told him. "I called you to join me because I wanted to catch them before they harmed her."

"So, it was not-"

"-her time?" He finished for him. "No, it was not." The God looked positively mournful.

It was like getting struck by Zeus' bolt.

Thanatos felt pan just like everyone else. In an odd sense, he was very much like the mortals. It was not his choice to be the God of Death; it just so happened to for him to be picked for the role.

Apollo was appalled. He felt so incredibly judgmental and forlorn. As the rest of Olympus, he had overlooked his finer qualities and immediately frowned down upon him.

He really was a fool.

"Let us take our leave." he suggested softly. "There is nothing we can-"

Apollo watched as the God of Death took his place before the poor creature, waiting in earnest. Suddenly, a small ball of light began to glow. In that moment, he stopped speaking. It became quiet. As he watched, Thanatos stepped forward and caressed the head of the deceased creature. It had lived a reasonable life, one filled with all sort of merriment and play. Apollo could not help feeling that warmth as it washed over him. With a look of utter longing, Thanatos began to chant in a language that only he could understand in the richest voice he has ever heard. It was his chant of death. But, there was nothing morbid about it. In fact, it was quite beautiful to hear.

 _A great misfortune has fallen upon thee that cannot awaken_

 _The light in thee seeps through thouest skin_

 _I lay my hand upon thy head,_

 _Relieving you of all your earthly woes_

 _In return, thy look at me in thankfulness, for I have granted thy wish_

 _As you depart this land_

 _With the perpetual earnest, a vison that is to come is born_

 _Elysium welcomes you with its gracious arms_

 _The breast of Gaia will miss you so,_

 _But come now and humble me for all eternity_

 _Blessed be the River Styx_

A harsh wind had kicked up, and in that moment something impossible had occurred. The doe that had been taken by death was now standing proudly next to him. Her head rose to meet his steady gaze. With a sympathetic look, he directed his gaze momentarily to Apollo before leading the doe ahead of him. She walked without being escorted further.

"Y-you are just going to allow her to roam?" stammered the God.

"She knows the way, as all other once living things do."

"How is that possible?" Clearly, he was not accustomed to seeing the miracle of death. "She ought to be lost."

Thanatos stopped in his place, turned around and stared at his newly found companion. For a second, time was not the oppression. It fluttered like wings of the butterfly and let it take flight. _This_ was what he was trying to get him to understand.

"It may seem so," said the God gently, looking back at the doe as its misty form dissolved and they were left alone at last. "But, that is not true. All living things know where to find me. I am undesirable, but I am not completely far from the mind."

"Why is that?" Apollo probed. As curious as the little nuisance was, Thanatos was grateful that he was taking the time to come to know him. "Why are you undesirable?"

"Because I am a painful truth." whispered Death and went on his way. "And, life is a beautiful misconception. Take great care for the ideas itself, and you will find your answers. You seem not to know the ways of my land. Come, I shall enlighten you."

"Go to Hade's abode?" questioned the God in earnest. "I am afraid I- "

"Everyone is welcomed, I assure you." said the God softly, looking at him with the upmost case of serenity. It was unlike anything he has ever saw.

And just as the Gods intoned, the two of them paid their respects and travelled back down the strip of land in which took them from their home. Their journey was peaceful and quiet. Only time to time did they stop to rest and converse. Otherwise, they kept to themselves.

Apollo could not place what was coming over him. In a stream, the feeling of neutrality, as if nothing was wrong in the world and all was forgiven befell him.

"Does it always end up like the scene we just witnessed?" he ventured, wanting to know the answer.

Thanatos raised an eyebrow, looking at him quietly before he answered. "No, sometimes it is a more difficult ending."

"Elaborate."

Again, he fell quiet. This time, for an extended period of time until the crossed a specific path and over the face of a spring. There, he gave him his answer.

"Death is the final outcome for all. Sometimes, one does not live the finest life, much less the purest. Most people find me, and I welcome to land of Elysium. Others, unfortunately, find home in Tartarus.

"As you know, God of the Sun, Tartarus is a vile place that only houses the most despicable of prisoners. I have seen it with my very eyes, and I had not been a caring God by nature with the forbidding gift of Death, I would say that it is no place for anyone to find themselves locked in. My sisters would sourly disagree; they believe every being and creature deserving of such a fate. I was merely created to shepherd those who found favor in the Gods, who showed their worthiness and courage."

"Your sisters… the Keres. They are responsibly for slaughter and disease among the mortals?"

"It is their known specialty, yes. Though, I have my suspicions that they sent those mortals to kill that doe. They are always trying to cause trouble, much like the Sisters of Fate. They are truly ones to keep an eye on."

Apollo listened carefully. He had known the God all his life, and never once stopped to consider that he was just as stuck with his domain as the rest of them were. Having pulled the wrong stick, he was given the gift of death, something that no one in their rightful minds would be able to pull off. It took a special kind of spirit and deity to be able to usher those from the living world, welcome them to their new abodes, and grant them access to the place to which was destined for them. He felt an overwhelming since of gratitude and respect for the God of Death. Without him…Gods… would there be any structure? The world would literally be thrown into Chaos, a spectacle that has not happened for thousands of years. The Sun God looked at Thanatos soundlessly as he tried to picture a world without him.

"It seems you play a very crucial role in this madness, Thanatos." Said Apollo strongly. "I cannot imagine what life… and perhaps death, would without you."

"I am the lesser of the evil…I cannot imagine it, either." Then he paused. "I do hope you are not fishing for compliments, God. I do not hand that out freely. I still think you are a terrible partner, much less your skills with an arrow."

This made the God bark out in laughter.

"I find that quite humorous!" he yelled triumphantly. "My arrow has been and will always be straight!"

"You are an absolute moron." observed the God of Death evenly, but amused. "Come, we still have a long way to tread. If we cannot beat your blasted sun, then let us take rest under the watchful eye of Selene. I am sure she will protect me come need be. Gods knows you would not be able to hold your own in battle if the need should rise."

"Should we be heading north?"

"And, come across that dunderhead God of Love?" he quipped, agitated. He had adopted a rather peculiar name from his close mentor, Hermes. The two of them were inseparable. They have known each other longer than Apollo could grasps, and it was a friendship worth forming.

"What is your deal with the God, Thanatos?"

"I simply do not like him."

"That is unfortunate," came a hollowed voice that formed from the mist," I have grown to care not for you either, Thanatos."

As if born from the breath of the earth, Eros appeared before him in his traditional robes of pristine white and golden scripture. An embroidered laurel wreath mended by the woodland nymphs was placed delicately upon his head, a gift from for his exemplary passage.

Eros has always been a passive God, even in the thorough of war. Even in times of peace, he has been found to keep himself at a great distance, something that the God of Death has yet to forgive.

Thanatos loathed him.

With every fibre of his being, he could not stand to be in his unyielding presence and be considered in the same brilliance when he was just a passenger in the chaos of the world.

For his stance and lack of support, he has yet to see value in the God that stood before him.

"Eros," Thanatos said evenly," what do you owe the pleasure?"

"You are treading in my territory, Thanatos."

"Last time I checked," the God of Death said slowly, his voice molten fire," your territory does not extend this far south. What has brought you here?"

The God of Love looked at him coolly before answering," I could ask the same thing to you, my friend."

Apollo, who had been following the God with the earnest lecture of a student, watched the exchange with curiosity. Of course, he had heard rumors of the God of Love. Of all his conquests, his teachings, but mostly his skill. He was quite the young warrior, and a fond entertainer of Zeus. If only his counterpart Aphrodite had found some inkling of respect from the God of Gods.

"I am no friend of yours," The God of Death stated scathingly, much different to the playful tone he had used with Apollo. "Be gone. I do not wish to see you in my sights."

"Such greetings from a visitor," he observed quietly, his aura changing dramatically to fit his perspective. The Sun God read the signs quicker than once imaged. He foresaw an intervention happening between the two, and quickly acted upon his intuition. Thanatos merely shooed him away.

When Eros finally come out of hiding, Apollo could understand why he had been concealing himself.

He, too, had heard the windless passing of the Keres, the soulless sisters of Thanatos. Evidently, they were spotted not far from his temple and had sent servants to investigate their business in his land. Unfortunately, they had been too late, which brought him to gather around the forest in hopes of finding them in the act of killing.

"I was eager to find out who killed that doe."

"It is no business of yours. I assure you, Eros."

"Ah," he raised a single finger and chastised him for assuming as such," but it is my business. It does not matter if we are not technically in my land. The doe was targeted while in my care. What I want to know is who could have taken its life before its destined time."

"It was predetermined."

"And, how is it that you know that?" Eros questioned darkly. "Did you speak to the Fates?"

"No."

"Then you really must be in alliance with the Keres." He seethed, angry. "You are just as manipulative-"

"-Do not finish that-"

"Great warriors" Apollo said to the sparring Gods," shall we not disturb the land more than we have?" He then turned to Eros, who had turned and was looking at him with a look of genuine interest, one riddled with grand mystery as well. Nothing about him screamed easy; he was a mantle of questions that held so many answers. "Eros, we did not mean to pay you with disrespect."

"I am aware, young God." He said slowly. "Though, I am sure this one would disagree."

"Exactly what do you mean by your words, Eros?" Thanatos touched the hilt of the sword he had been carrying around, the air shifting uncomfortably between them. "Doth thou challenge me?"

Eros looked between him and the sword before finally resting on the angry expression on his face. In a calm, collected voice, he said," I do not see a challenge, but a man with a little sword that believes he can do harm." An insidiously daring smile graced his lips. "Only problem is, I do not see a man."

"Such audacity for a Lesser God!" he yelled, drawing his sword and pushing Apollo out of the way of his invitation for battle. He waited until his opponent drew his weapon, the quintessential essence that resided inside of them all stirring like a wild beast inside of him. He could feel the untapped source railing him up, surging within and rising to the surface as to burst through the pores of his skin. It was a powerful sensation. "I will not be made a fool. Now, let us draw swords. I wish to put you in your place."

Dreadfully so, Eros began to call upon his own powers and soon he was armored with leather attire and a sword forged by the most suitable for battle. The sword was a flaming replica of one Apollo might have summoned; he looked on like a helpless spectator, wondering what on Gaia's Earth had caused the God of Death to want to spar with him.

"It is quite funny, Thanatos," Eros told him, preparing to himself. He did several exercises, one of which worked his tired muscles of his back and shoulders. The sword twirled veraciously in his hand as he flicked his wrist quietly. His eyes never left his. "After all this time, and you finally demand a spar? Have you had cold feet all this time?"

"No, my friend," he echoed his words, "I never thought you would be a worthy opponent, Eros. Any God can see that you are weak."

"Being the God of Love is shown as something to be ashamed of?"

Thanatos fell quiet for a moment before answering," I believe that it is so…" He rolled his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "Now, let us spar."

* * *

Aphrodite watched anxiously as Thanatos was tossed into the air, his sword flaking from his grasp and landing sharply against the ground. With a thundering blow, Eros sent his opponent flying across the arena, the wind gathering under him while he soared high into the eye of the air. As she has witnessed in the forest during their first formal meeting, the spar was playing just as it did then. Only difference was that she knew this time who would come out the winner.

Eros had improved greatly.

He was not the so called coward Thanatos believed him to be. No, he was a man. A true personification of his Godly image as shown by the mortals. He had been willowy before. Now, he with every sense of the word strong and capable. After the initial meeting, the two forged an alliance and a bond that has not been touched or compared to ever since. Every day the mortals created new tales of their relationship, going as far as saying that he mastered the art of the sword, all respect going to her husband for forging such magnificent emblems.

She watched with a great wave of anxiety.

If Magick had been involved, she had to understand the reason behind her husband's frightful use of it in his weaponry.

Trepidation flowered within her as she payed witness.

Eros' defense had forced Thanatos to lose direction, but not for long. As soon as he was able to, he redirected his course and flew back to him, his sword held out straight in front of him.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** The Games were part of a religious festival. The Greek Olympics, thought to have begun in 776 BC, inspired the modern Olympic Games (begun in 1896) The Games were held in honor of Zeus, king of the gods, and were staged every four years at Olympia, a valley near a city called Elis.

For the Greeks magic ( _mageia_ or _goeteia_ ) was a wide-ranging topic which involved spells and evil prayers ( _epoidai_ ), curse tablets ( _katadesmoi_ ), enhancing drugs and deadly poisons ( _pharmaka_ ), amulets ( _periapta_ ) and powerful love potions ( _philtra_ ). The modern separation of magic, superstition, religion, science, and astrology was not so clear in the ancient world. This mysterious, all-encompassing art of magic was practiced by both male and female specialized magicians who people sought out to help them with their daily lives and to overcome what they saw as obstacles to their happiness.

Practitioners of _mageia_ , the magicians, the first of whom, to the Greeks at least, were the Magi ( _magoi_ ) priests of Persia, were seen not only as wise holders of secrets but also as masters of such diverse fields as mathematics and chemistry. Associated with death, divination, and evil-doing magicians were, no doubt, feared, and their life on the fringes of the community meant that practitioners were often impoverished and reliant on handouts to survive.

Magic appears in the mythology of ancient Greece and was associated with such figures as Hermes, Hecate (goddess of the moon and witchcraft), Orpheus, and Circe, the sorceress daughter of Helios who was expert in magical herbs and potions and who helped Odysseus summon the ghosts from Hades. Myths abound in tales of magic potions and curses. Just one example is Hercules, who died a horrible death after his wife Deianeira had taken the magic blood of the centaur Nessos and liberally spread it on the hero's cloak. On wearing it, Hercules was burned terribly and would later die of his wounds. Magic is also practiced by many literary characters, perhaps most famously by Medea in Euripides' tragedy play of the same name.

THE KERES were female spirits ( _daimones_ ) of violent or cruel death, including death in battle, by accident, murder or ravaging disease. Another spirit, Thanatos, was the god of non-violent death.

They were agents of the Moirai (Fates), birth-goddesses who measured out the length of a man's life when he first entered the world, and Moros (Doom) the Daimon who drove a man towards his inevitable destruction. The Keres were cravers of blood and feasted upon it after ripping a soul free from the mortally wounded bodies and sending it on their way to Haides. Thousands of Keres haunted the battlefield, fighting amongst themselves like vultures over the dying. The Keres had no absolute power over the life of men, but in their hunger for blood would seek accomplish death beyond the bounds of fate. Zeus and the other gods, however, could stop them in their course or speed them on. The Olympian gods are often described standing by their favorites in battle, beating the clawing death spirits from them. Some of the Keres were personifications of epidemic diseases, which haunted areas riven by plague. (See also the Nosoi.) The Keres were depicted as fanged, taloned women dressed in bloody garments.

* * *

 **A quick guide to know which Harry Potter character is which God/Goddess:**

Ploutos and Philomelos: Fred and George

Hermes: Severus

Zeus: Dumbledore

Hera: Minerva

Hero: Ginny

Apollo: Harry

Eros: Blaise

Thanatos: Draco

Chylyses: Cormac

Dionysus: Horace

Psyche: Hermione

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It's been so long since I've written anything for this. Just recently I was looking through my folders and thought it's high time that I come and finish this work. It has been a crazy year, and if anyone has read any of my other updates, you'll know why. Things have been hard. I'm so glad that I'm able to come back and write!

Sorry for the cliffhanger! The next chapter will be considerably long, filled with action, Aphrodite's plan coming into fruition and Psyche. Maybe you'll get some smut ;) Who knows?

This is as edited as it can possibly be. I had someone months ago ask if they could beta this and I honestly don't know how I missed the PM. It was only when I got the app for my phone that I was able to read it. Weird.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading!

Updates WILL come more often. Girl Scout's Honor!

-Carolare Scarletus


	18. 18

_As always, enjoy_

* * *

 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Eighteen_

 _Darkness Falls_

 _x-X-x_

* * *

*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

Zeus' temple was dressed in the glorious hue of gold and silver; slippery drapes made of pure, shimmering silk were hung above the windows, shielding the participants of the grand soiree from prying eyes while they indulged in hypnotic dance, partook in the most expensive and potent wines, and feasted to their hearts content. The White Hall was flowing with the sounds of a harps, their signature melodies mingling together in one powerful, demanding voice as it filled the entirety of the Hall. Among the gorgeously dressed Goddesses and romantically clad Gods, Eros rose from the masses, striking a deep chord with the attendees. Several of whom came up to commend him on his victory, while others boasted of the God's performance as their own extended hand of patience, stating that they were the reason behind his triumph. The God could not deny their accusations; though, he was quick to correct some of their flawed delectations. No one seemed to be bothered by his outburst, and continued to speak to him as if he had not spoken his mind at all. Among his admirers were Hera's Temple Goddesses. Through the blinding columns, opal awnings and beautifully chiseled decorations of Zeus' temple, Apollo found himself surrounded by every known deity to man, and wondering what could be going on in that winner's head. If only his superb performance would devour the dread that was building up inside of him since leaving the attendance of Aphrodite, then he would be able to see clearly the troubles that the God of the Sun was facing.

The towering columns of the arena vanished in the distance. Replacing the boisterous landscape was fields upon fields of flourishing vegetation of which Apollo did not recognize. He had been in a terribly mood ever since arriving to watch the games that morning. It had not gone away even after sharing in one last generous meal prepared by the Goddess in his Temple. All the guests filled themselves to the brink with an assortment of freshly picked fruit, meat, and so much more., as anyone would have been, was saddened by the fact that she would not see her children, Apollo and Euterpe until the winter holidays, which she so graciously invited them to stay. Accepting the invitation came to them as second nature, as they enjoyed spending time at the quaint little house on the hill. Apollo was just upset that he would not be able to see his friends after so long of fighting.

"You will be alright, I am sure," Cronus told him with a smile. "We'll still have the mirror, hearth, and anything else your brilliant friend of yours can come up as to allow us to stay in communication. Though, Caelus and I are looking forward to your fiercely detailed letters, Apollo. Just do not get into too much trouble. I would not want to you to get as nearly as close as I did to being

"Yes," Caelus chuckled fondly," we would not want a repeat of _that_ , now would we?"

Apollo did not have the chance to ask what the older God had done; by this time, they were running terribly late, as they often did with a large group. With a brusque goodbye and a shared embrace between them, he departed that morning with a sense of mounting dread. He arrived at the arena, sought out the protection of Zeus, and remained in his company until a time came when he could project his worry to a close friend. He found comfort in his sister, and their friend, Hypnos. As they settled themselves in one of the beautifully adorned booths in the Temple, Apollo's thoughts began to wander.

"Apollo," a gruff voice murmured beside him," Would you care for a drink?"

He looked up, an eyebrow posed atop his forehead. The God of Sleep was gorging himself once again on treats. It was a marvelous sight; he honestly wished he had an appetite like Hypnos because he had barely eaten anything during the pleasant gathering. The host had been far too busy to notice, which he was grateful for. He would have had to ask Euterpe to charm the food, so it would vanish inconspicuously off his plate. Either way, he did not want to deal with eating, much less stuffing his mouth with unnecessities like sweets. Though, it did not stop him from taking a chalice once it was offered to him; he could always go pull from the warm liquid.

Apollo sat back down, opened his mouth and took a long pull of the drink before turning his attention to the Goddess sitting on his left. In her hands was the instinctively warn out Pensieve was propped up in front of her. The crystal-clear waters glistened as her eyes scanned the endlessly small passages. Had the scene gotten more gruesome since he laid eyes upon it. Just when he was about to ask, Euterpe's looked up and sighed.

"Something the matter?" Hypnos asked.

She shook her head, dismissing him instantly. "Nothing, I just cannot concentrate."

" _You_ ," he pointed a licorice wand at her," cannot concentrate on The Hunt. Alert the Gods!"

Normally, this would not have gotten a single ounce of her approval but she found herself giggling at his words. Hypnos was extremely sweet, though horrible with forming the right words to express himself. It was still humorous within its own right.

"Oh, Hypnos." She giggled again, this time both the Gods joined in on the amusement. "Just because I cannot concentrate _now_ does not mean I suddenly lost my abilities. I simply cannot exert anymore energy, is all."

"What were you searching for, then?" Apollo prodded, reaching out to grab the book.

Euterpe slapped his hand away instinctively; her Pensieve was precious and she would not allow just _anyone_ to touch it. "Never you mind!"

"Cannot help you if you do not at least give us a clue, Euterpe."

This caused her to smirk. "Alright, I will give you a hint, but you have to promise that you will not get mad at me, Apollo. You too, Hypnos."

"Why would we get mad at you?"

" _Hell_ ," swore Hypnos under his breath. "As long as you do not quiz us on what you have found, I do not care."

"I am not going to quiz you." She rolled her eyes dramatically, then she bit her bottom lip. "To be honest, you will find what I am about to tell you a bit startling at first, but I promise it is all with good intention."

A strange, unsettling sensation came over Apollo; sure, Euterpe was prone to intellectual discoveries. She would not be her if she did not go off to look an answer in a book or go through the endless archive of information logged almost categorically and alphabetically in her head. He should feel confident in her ability to deliver whatever she needed to share with them, but he was not. Something about the impending topic had his nerves on edge, his heart waiting for the next pulsing beat, and his mind whirling with what mystery that lie ahead. When she shared her discovery, his heart did not start up again; it plummeted straight down his chest to his stomach where it sat in anticipation.

"The Mark." she started, eyeing them both to make sure her discovery would not upset them. At the very least, Apollo knew that she wanted them to listen. He would try to give her that right, no matter how much his mind protested, and his body ached and begged her to stop speaking. "I knew that I have seen it before and… when we were in the Underworld, I do not know why it did not come to be there."

"Maybe you were too frightened to even care to think back where you last saw it." Hypnos said, his voice low, threatening. He almost looked murderous as she spoke of the Mark. He obviously did not want to hear about what she had to say, even if she thought it would help them or help her recover. For weeks she's tried to get him to talk about it, but he had not budged, even in the slightest. He refused to speak of it and was doing his damnest to keep it that way. Apollo applauded him for it.

The last week of August brought healing to them all. More so for Euterpe as her father was invited to stay during the dying of the summer. The Muses have done remarkably well; the normally latent creatures that blinded themselves from humanity had all come out to celebrate the turning of the season. Apollo and Hypnos had left Euterpe to seek whatever enlightenment she needed, finding the comforts of Olympus and even the Springs, were astoundingly enjoyable and therapeutic. Coupled with the dances of the Muses, they were able to literally let go of everything that either held them back, dampened them in some way, or harmed them. For Apollo, it was enlightening. Although not warranted, their less than kind words had hardened his heart just a bit; he found himself, though rarely, not believing anything anyone said in juxtaposition to his actions or appearance. It was nice to finally forgive them for the things they have done; he would not have to worry about them anymore and in time he hoped to mend the broken bond between them. It was not anyone's fault for the death of his parents and he knew that. He wanted a relationship with them; if not for Zeus, who seemed to have loathed that side of the family regardless of their actions and beliefs, then for Hera. He knew the Goddess would want the same as well, as she had been the one to convince his Uncle to keep him those many summers ago.

Apollo, deciding that Hypnos would very much like to spend some time in the Underworld, went off in search of solitude when Cronus came up to him and coaxed him into a reminiscent inquiry. Almost three-hundred long years of fighting them, and they were finally able to call a truce. Cronus had upheld his promise, as well. Time to time, they found themselves drawn to the old, decrepit temple that they once shared. The Golden Stone remained a special trinket of their time together; more sentimental to Hypnos, Apollo knew that the older God could not let the place go. Too many good memories as well as bad, the aged God would forever be connected to the Realm his Master still dwelled, and his relatives still screeched with his betrayal of blood.

He did not know what that meant at the time. They almost gotten him into trouble when Cronus realized that Apollo had heard their private conversation. Immediately after stumbling upon them, he went to silence whatever mortifying scream issued from within, placing a veil upon himself to cover up his mistake. Forever muffled by the enchanted cloth, he could not divulge a single think about the words he uttered.

"Forgive me," he had told him when he questioned it. "I would rather die an unpleasant death and my soul remain in that hysteria, destined to relive my less grandiose years, than offer you a response to what you just heard."

Apollo had not believed it for one second but knew better to question it. Given his background and who he grown up with, he learned not to question a lot of things. One way or another, it would come to him, though. Nothing could account for why she was suddenly interested in the mark they had seen. Nor can anything account for the hours spent trying to figure out where she had seen it. Apollo did not know what she saw, nor did he wish to provoke his sister's wrath. He only wished Hades did not play a crucial role in her interest to know more about the Mark. All he knew now is that he had to put a stop to it.

"Euterpe," Apollo looked at her and her beautiful, doe-like eyes looked up at him. Auburn chased dark brown in a beautiful dance. He was stunned by the depth of her eyes for a moment before he broke free from their incredible hold. "I know that you have worked hard to find what that mark means but you have to understand that neither of us really care. What Hades-"

She visibly winced at the mention of his name. "Do _not_ say his name."

"Sorry," he said, though he certainly did not feel it. What she said was odd, though. "But, it is true. Hypnos does not want to talk about it and I certainly do not want you to regress to your previous state. You've recovered so nicely and to have it all vanish at the mere mention of something hideously evil as that, I do not want to take a chance."

"I am perfectly capable of speaking about it, Apollo." Euterpe told him after some time. "The Muses did not just heal you. It… it helped me come to terms what he did to me and if sorting out this mark-"she indicated to the picture as the book opened up to the correct page. "-then so be it. I am not afraid to find closure after seeing something this malevolent."

"Maybe it is not the mark that you should be finding closure from."

Hypnos had been unnaturally quiet until now. Thawed from being petrified with fright, he turned his attention to Euterpe. "He is right, Euterpe. You have been obsessed with that damn thing ever since coming back from the Underworld. What has gotten into you? From cowering in the corner to wanting to know what that bastard is up to. It is highly unlike you. Thought I had only see this type of behavior from Apollo."

It was true that Apollo was just as obsessed with Hades as she was, but he had stopped trying to figure out what he was planning. He had not even begun to figure out what the mark meant because Hypnos refused to speak and even Cronus and Caelus had been no use to him. Apollo had suddenly backed him and his investigation to a corner and he did not know how to find his way back out. Fixed with that, he just let it be and assumed the obsession would go away on its own. Which it did not; it still consumed him as it did the day it was born.

"I-I just wanted to understand it, is all." She confessed to them something she had been hiding ever since lying eyes upon the inked mark.

Apollo looked away. He could not bear looking at her now, not with her innocent eyes. Her intentions were entirely too comical; why on earth would anyone want to delve into the darkness without knowing they could find the light again? Euterpe was not uselessly senseless, but she had developed a need for recklessness all the same.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" she said suddenly and out of character. Forgetting that she had something important to say, she turned to Apollo with a reproachful stance. "I know something is wrong, Apollo. Please tell me what is bothering you."

He frowned. How on earth did she figure that one out? Was it the fact that he had not eaten a single thing during breakfast or the way his aura screamed not to bother him?

"I do not know what you are talking about, Euterpe."

Even using her full given name was a mistake on his part. It came out unnecessarily harsh and critically unnerving. He should have known not to let his temper get the best of him because for some reason Euterpe believed his foul mood had something to do with her.

"You did not do anything, alright?" he told her before she could even try to say that it was. "Just tired. Been a long last couple of weeks."

Euterpe bit her lip, unconvinced. "Are you sure? I mean, it is been stressful for all of us and-"

"Come off it!" he hissed. An anger like none other tore from his chest and ripped from his throat. It startled him as much as it startled his best friends. Deep and demented was the voice, a voice so much unlike his own. Apollo growled softly in agitation as he stood quickly, walked to the compartment door and shoved the door open. "Taking a walk. Be back later."

Without another word, he was gone.

* * *

Euterpe sat petrified in her seat. She could hardly believe the words that had come out of his mouth, much less the voice that had summoned from some far-off realm. She was shaking; Hypnos had heard it as well and did not look too thrilled about it, either.

"You should not have brought it up," sighed Hypnos, reaching for another treat. He opened the wrapper rather roughly and popped the piece of candy into his mouth, momentarily making a sour face before accommodating to the unique taste of the candy. "Apollo still feels bad about what happened in the Underworld, and I do not blame him."

"But, I have forgiven him."

True to her word, she had forgiven him some time after Florae. They both agreed to not speak about it and Apollo made sure to include that he would not force either of them into something they did not want to do. That included finding an explanation to Hades' mark.

"Your words do not mean anything to him. Unfortunately, he will still believe that he has wronged you in some way until he can find forgiveness in himself for putting both of us in harm's way. More you than me, obviously. I can handle myself; he must have thought you would not be able to, but you were able to keep grounded to the best of your ability."

If she had known that Apollo would react the way he did, Euterpe would not have brought up the Mark so early. She just needed answers. As her father told her before he left, she needed to do whatever she had to find that peace. Until then, she could not truly move on.

Euterpe felt guilty. She should have known she was not the only one to be afflicted by what they saw. Hypnos would not speak of it and Apollo had been foolish enough to be enamored by its stunning beauty. She, on the other hand, could not stop seeing it. Her dreams were filled with nothing but snakes. Like the one that hissed as they escaped before Hades caught them eavesdropping.

"I- I had no idea."

"Well, now you know." His tone was dangerously low. It signaled the end of the conversation and the end of the notion of the Mark.

Hypnos leaned back in his chair and nibbled quietly on the remaining bits of his snack. From time to time, he'd turn his head to stare at the window. Euterpe had an idea of what the redhead could be thinking. As she was about to ask, the door to their compartment opened and in two very uniquely gift individuals.

Thalia was an eccentrically unique witch who had a fondness of anything out of the ordinary. She could see and sense things that Gods and Goddesses alike could only dream of doing. From her pure blonde hair to her azure eyes, her natural beauty came forth from the oddities that was sewn in her clothing and strewn across her shoulders like a shawl. She wore an oddly adorned headdress, which exploded with multi-colored streamers from the small openings around the base; she wore slightly rustic dress and a necklace made of the roughest material imaginable. Hypnos bit back whatever rude retort that was surely forming on her lips; she did not very much like the outfit, but he could not very well confront her about wearing it. At least, not now. Thalia was a splendid witch and she only had the purest of interest at heart.

Standing beside her was Aeolus. His brown hair was strewn over his shoulder. Although his finer counterpart's clothing was thrown together without so much as a thought, Aeolus was more put together. Euterpe marveled at how sophisticated the young God looked. From his dark tunic and armor, Aeolus looked incredibly different. _By the Gods_ , if she willed. Even more so considering how long it has been since they have seen him. He nodded in Hypnos' direction before turning to Euterpe.

"Been looking for you everywhere. Did not know where you have all ran off too, and of course, Apollo is not exactly known to allow others to follow you."

"What brings you over to the red side, Thalia? Tired of the boring old blue?"

The blonde-haired girl turned in Hypnos' general direction. " _Nargles_ ," her angelic voice told him. "I saw a swarm of them come this way and I had to make sure they did not come to bother anyone. Terrible time to catch the flu, too. Did not want anyone to inhale any of the _Volucris_ , either."

" _Volucris_?" Hypnos attempted the name and his face became sour. "What the in the name of the Gods are those?"

Thalia began to explain what the creatures were, though Hypnos did not seems as inclined to listen. In the meanwhile, Euterpe's turned her attention to Aeolus. He had taken the unoccupied seat beside her, giving them a bit more privacy than a cramped compartment would allow.

"What are you here for, Aeolus?" Euterpe inquired, cheerfully. It was not every day she was able to talk to the God. She smiled at him, and he soon returned it. "Here to entertain us?"

"By the Gods." An embarrassed blush graced his cheeks. "No, I am here to give you this."

In his hand were two letters addressed to her. Stunned, Euterpe reached and took the letters from his awaiting hands. Inside, there was a letter from Hera. The other had no inheritor.

"I have one for Apollo as well. I have received one as well."

"Congratulations!" she told him. "Unfortunately, Apollo is not here. He left just before you two showed up."

He nodded in understanding. "Any idea who it may be?" Aeolus asked looking up to meet her eye.

She shook her head," No idea. Though, I do have my suspicions." In her hand was the second letter, but she had a feeling that the author of it wanted her to read it in private. So, she tucked it neatly inside her person, stood up, stretching her arms above her head to alleviate the last two hours of rest. Her bones cracked underneath the pressure, causing her to let out an undetected moan.

"I do wonder what it could be. Perhaps a secret meeting of the elites?" Hypnos tried to ease the tension from earlier.

Thalia was still talking, but she stopped to speak to Euterpe. "Oh, I wonder who it could be!"

"As long as it is not from the Olympians, I do not care." said Aeolus, his voice deathly. He, along with a great number of Gods, have been the arse of all their jokes. Tormented every day for his lack of inabilities and weaknesses, the God did receive a lot of their hatred from the prejudice branch. "I do not think any of us want to see you have to share a room so close to one of them, Euterpe."

"Oh, it would not be so bad," she passed their concern off as something redundant, but it was sweet of them to be so concerned. Euterpe could not say she knew who the God or Goddess, but she had a feeling that she would not have to worry about them. "And, if he is one of the Olympians, well, I will sort that out when I get there. The part of being united is to make peace with the ones who tormented and bullied us. Unity is- "

"No one cares Hermes' flying arse about Unity, Euterpe." Hypnos snarled. "If one of those bastards even _thinks_ about harming you, I will- "

Euterpe immediately shut him out; she really did not to hear what he would do if any one of them were to touch her. What he did describe would no doubt land him straight into Tartarus. The nerve of him to even _suggest_ such monstrosities!

"You cannot possibly do that! You will get into _so_ much trouble and you could face the rest of your life in Tartarus!"

Hypnos stood up and swept her into a stumbling embrace. "If that means protecting you, I do not care." he whispered only to her.

"Give the girl some breathing room," chuckled Aeolus, winking at her from where he sat. "Of course, we should have known the position would be given to you. I believe even Eros would be impressed by your abilities."

This made Euterpe blush profusely as she tried to wrestle from Hypnos' tight grip.

"Oh, yes!" agreed Thalia cheerfully. "No one deserves it more than you do, and I am sure whoever this person is would agree!"

Euterpe smiled at her friends before checking her watch. "It is almost time to leave. I will see later."

Hypnos let go of her. As Thalia and Aeolus said goodbye and exited the compartment, he grabbed her arm and said," Be careful."

"I will," she promised before disappearing from his arms.

* * *

The Sun God walked aimlessly around the compact arena of the Temple. The loose decorative lamps and chains rattled with the increased speed of chariots; Gods whipped up and down the corridors like wild animals, pushing and chasing one another until they grew tired or were caught by one of the Watchers on patrol. No one noticed or paid any attention to the God as he maneuvered through their numbers; in fact, his presence remained unaccounted by everyone. Like a soul treading the catacombs beneath the earth and graves upon the breast of Gaea, he was yet another ordinary person who sought passage. Apollo was used to this treatment; it was still too early to even consider joining in any merriment from the past several months to even care. Something about what Aphrodite said was still lodged deep within his mind and it took a lot of searching to rid himself of the mounting anger that exalted him to no end.

What this anger came from, it caused his blood to boil, his skin to crawl, and his eyes to threaten to gorge themselves out of their sockets. He did not know what had come over him back in the stadium, but he knew he ought to go back and explain himself or at the very least apologize for his behavior. The strange thing was that he feared that she would not want to hear his excuses, so he allowed the idea to linger and finally dissipate like a small, singular cloud hanging overhead. Like so many things that riled him up, this one did not leave so easily.

 _The Mark,_ it whispered unto him. _Blood, bad blood._

 _Not safe._

 _Stay away._

 _The Mark!_

As his mind spiraled into madness, he let the words sink in like a temporary remedy. He heeded those words with devoted passion, but another part of him wanted to know, wanted to seek the unknown. If he listened hard, he could hear the hissing grow louder before settling back down. Naught but a whisper in the wind, it said:

 _Feed._

 _Hunger._

 _Kill._

These words became to torment him in an endless battle of domination over his mind. His head spun rapidly, his surroundings tilted drastically as he tried to steady himself. The lightening scar upon his forehead began to burn like hot knives. Like the disciple of death, the voice delivered a promise that has yet to come all these years. He's heard it before. Countless times he's been subjected to listen and heed the warnings of some long-lost patriot that once roamed the fields of the earth. It shook him like a child shook a snow globe, sending his entire perspective and being to soar into oblivion and crash down like an exerted plane down to earth. He crashed. His body and mind were a disastrous mess and he was without hope for restoration.

"Ah, young Apollo."

As the voice rang out, all eyes landed on him. He tried his best to appear nonchalant and undeterred by their stares, but how could he when their blatant stares were emphasized by their indiscreet whispers? His chest seemed to compress into an unbearable slit of space as his hands became sweaty and his senses became blurred. His body was numb from some unnatural coldness and by the time their voices settled down, he had found himself barely holding onto the wall for support. Inside, as far as he could see, stood a familiar face, the acquaintance of the God that he knew well. His features were contorted into a snarl and her eyes seemed to scream with vengeance.

Apollo scrambled to find a safe spot on the wall. As several Watchers passed, he came face to face with a soft, familiar face.

Calliope had been the secret companion during his whole dilemma. He met the Temple Goddess during a routine trip to the Mortal Realm, and he still has not been able to get her off his mind. She was a beauty of ancient descent; her hair spoke to the windless midnight hue and her eyes were the deepest shade of brown he has ever laid eyes on. Not too tall and with a womanly figure, the Goddess turned heads wherever she went. After two years, she remained the same graceful raven that she was infamously known as.

"Good evening, Apollo."

"Evening," he recuperated.

An unbearable silence came over them. Neither knew what to say except for a simple greeting that meant absolutely nothing at this point. There had been a time when they could speak to one another normally and without the complications of their past. Two years. Two years without answers, without resolution, and certainly without peace of mind. Neither of them could stop thinking about the one they lost. Adonis had been an excellent competitor of the Tournament, a great friend, and wonderfully studious student of Hogwarts. He was well-known by all and he always rose to the occasion and excelled in whatever he set out to do. His death, as well as his life, would be mourned and celebrated for all eternity.

Apollo' intuition got the better of him. He knew that she was still mourning the loss of her friend. As the months past, he was sure that she would have come to terms with his unexpected death. As hard as it shook Olympus, the mystery of it still lingered as if it had happened just the other day.

Only he knew what happened inside that maze. From the large, furry spiders, to the monotonous trolls, he had seen it all. One lone figure with pale skin and veins that protruded like branches haunted his sleeping state. A creature of night, of misfortune and darkness- whatever it was had tried to take him but had taken Adonis instead. All his dreams are filled with this creature and his role in the death of his friend and fellow competitor. He could not figure out where he had seen him, nor understand what his involvement was behind the act luring him into the graveyard of his past. If it hadn't been for the noble act of wanting to share the victory of becoming the champion of the Tournament, Adonis would be alive. If he did not tell him to touch the Cup precisely when he would, Apollo would not have met that monstrous beast that took Adonis from the world and caused such an alarm for the Mortal Realm.

Until this day, he does not know what he saw, nor did he have the penchant to unlock the potential to figure it out. He did not want to know. It would be best if he did not.

"Best be going," he murmured to her softly. As he moved out of her way, he turned and looked over his shoulder. She was just standing there with her back turned to him. She was holding back her tears. "Just, look forward to a better tomorrow and let go of the past."

He wished he would have said that to her. His exact words were not exactly comforting and meant nothing to her. She nodded acceptingly and went the opposite direction. Caught somewhere between guilt and tenacity, Apollo struggled with the decision to follow the Ravenclaw back to her compartment. He wanted to comfort her, but how can one comfort someone that wished to be comforted by another? Calliope would never divulge it, but deep down she was Adonis had been spared. She wished that he had not agreed to go back for him as a valiant display of camaraderie. It had been Adonis' wish, but Apollo knew what the she was thinking. She wished that Adonis had not died, and that Apollo had died in his stead.

"See you later," came her quiet dismissal. Apollo watched the dark-haired Goddess slip away from him once again. Alas, even time could not heal all and the suffering of one claimed everything it touched.

The young God stood petrified for a moment before finding the ground to move. Willing his feet, he set off in the opposite way in which he came. Apologizing to his best friends suddenly sounded agreeable and he was completely set on going back to the compartment where he left them to explain himself. Well, until a pair of hands found his shirt and pushed him harshly against the wall. His back ached from the collision and a throbbing in his forehead resounded unpleasantly throughout his head.

"Where have you been?" a shrilled voice asked him.

Artemis looked furious. Her dark red hair only excited the fire that was playing in her eyes. From the looks of it, she had been searching for him for quite a while. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair a mess, and even her light makeup had taken a horrible beating from the sweat that rolled down her forehead. He could only imagine the countless list of charms that would need to fix that. Apollo' green eyes watched the beads of sweat for a second before quickly drifting to meet hers.

"Been walking around."

"Walking around," she huffed, disbelievingly. "Do you know how long I have been searching for you?"

She did not give him the proper amount of time to reply before a full-blown reprisal was set into motion. She reprimanded him for not being in the compartment with Artemis and Hypnos, for ditching them without explanation to find solitude in the narrow corridors of the train. The young witch went on and on about his abandonment until it became very abundantly clear that Apollo was in no mood to be reprimanded for any wrongdoing that he was sure surpassed her sight. Artemis relented, but only by a little. As he wandered off, she fought to keep up with him. He strolled a little way down before letting out an aggravated sigh.

"What is that you want, Artemis?" he asked, disheveled by his own tiredness. "Cannot you see I would very much like to be left alone?"

"I can see that," was what came of her smart remark.

"And," he waited for her to respond, but quickly waved her admission away," either tell me what you needed to tell me or leave me be."

Artemis stared almost abashedly by his rude remark. Frowning, she took out something from her person and thrusted into his hands. Stumbling from her brashness, he nearly dropped the beautifully enveloped letter. Eyeing it with speculation, he lifted his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Just read it," she sighed, giving him a bit of space as to allow him to do as she asked. "s been looking for you and happened to pay homage to me earlier.

"And, you knew where I would be?" he asked, his finger running through the slick tongue of the envelope.

"Had some idea where you may have run off to." she confessed, embarrassed. A smile played on her lovely lips. "I stopped by your Master's Temple, but you were not there, and when I was able to find him, he said something about you blowing up on him and disrespecting the Goddess of Love."

It completely slipped his mind that Apollo had set up a meeting. After weeks of planning and sorting out the necessities of the coming academic year, it had somehow eluded him. With considered longing, Apollo' thoughts travelled to her achievement whilst it wandered to what he would tell Aphrodite the next time he saw her. He did not know whether to be angry or grateful that he told his sister knew where he was. Not that he knew exactly where he ran off to, though.

"What exactly did your friend say then, Artemis?"

She shrugged. "I was not really paying attention. By the time he was able to explain what you did through a mouth full of food," she shuttered unpleasantly, probably at the memory of her brother gorging himself until he was bloated with commodities again," I ran into a very nasty boy from Slytherin."

"Do not tell me- "

She withheld a giggle, "No, it was not with Aphrodite. Not to your satisfaction, unfortunately. Your obsession with her has grown exponentially over the last several weeks. Some have the audacity to say you are in love with her. I worry about you sometimes."

Obsession was not the correct word for it. Whatever it was, it boarded something that even he could not fathom. It was as if he _needed_ to know what the despicable Goddess was up to. The very idea anchored him to the earth, centered him into one tiny bit of space that suspended between time. At all costs, he had to know. Like a driving force of nature, this obsession as she called it was created from some long-arrived connection between them. He could not explain it. Whenever he thought about this anomaly, his head would throb, and unbearable pain would shoot through his forehead and down his body. It ached with harshness previously unknown to him; his entirety was questioned with the simple utterance of the surname of his archrival.

"You do not worry about me, Artemis." He told her, sure that his voice sounded nonchalant, but she did not catch onto it. In fact, she appeared to be a bit more occupied by his decrepit state than the words he spoke. "I simply like knowing where that wench of a Goddess is at all times."

Artemis gingerly came up to him and placed a hand on his arm. With a smile, she said," Whatever it is worth," her eyes searched his," I want you to know that I am here for you. As a friend, a shoulder to lean on. Anything."

Something flashed before her eyes and by the time he had time to register what it could have been, it was gone. Like a flicker of lightening that held a sound, whatever those bright brown eyes resounded vanished into thin air. Apollo stared into them. Flecks of tiny, colored orbs danced within them before they too vanished. He would have found himself lost if it was not for Artemis's voice urging him to stay.

"Well," she cleared her throat," Do not start stating your sincere acceptance of my invitation of chivalry quite yet, Apollo."

"Chivalry was better left to the men of the Mortal Realm, Artemis. Unless, of course, you have forgotten."

"One does not simply forget bravery." She countered with a wicked smile. "I _am_ the Goddess of Hunt, or has that, too, escaped your notice?"

" _One cannot simply forget_ ," he said breathlessly, as if feeding off her kinetic energy of flirtation.

How was it possible for one person to ease him so? To send all the bent-up energy to escape into the farthest reached of the earthly world. He knew there had to be a reason behind the uncanny attraction to his best mate's little sister, and if it was the way she always there was one of them, then he had found someone truly remarkable. There was a connection with her that he simply could not ignore. Be it the summers he has spent basking in her light, the years he has roamed the same halls as her, or being involved with the same sort of people- he knew that she was someone that he had to keep by his side.

"Do not," she told him, her voice soft and fragile. "Do not forget."

Even in the darkest of times, a broken woman could be brave. Given the opportunity, she could prove just that and more.

Before he could praise her for easing him, their attention was brought back to the envelope in his hand. What the envelope held was unknown to him but by looking at the way Artemis's eyes sparkled, he knew without a doubt that it had to be something good. Honestly, _what_ could make a girl's eyes light up like Christmas lights on the first day of winter that quickly?

"I got one too. Whatever it is." Artemis watched curiously as he pulled out the letter and read its content. "I believe it is from the fool, Dionysus."

He did not have time to marvel at how she read the introduction verbatim before delving into his own personal letter. Once the golden scripture was read, the letters closed in on one another and vanished completely off the parchment, leaving behind nothing of its existence.

Apollo looked up. "Suppose you do not know what this is about, then?" Artemis asked, crestfallen.

"No," he admitted a bit dumbly. "I cannot say for certain, but he may have acquired a bit of a collection of the last couple of hours. Do you think it wise that we should go?"

The Goddess shrugged, giving no real indication as to what she was thinking. "Better than sitting around and waiting for the Underworld to freeze over."

If Apollo was not too preoccupied by the darker side of light, he would have found her comment a bit daunting. As they collected themselves and proceeded down to the front carriages, his mind found a way to elude him. It brought him straight back to Hades and what he was planning for the upcoming academic year. It was his last year; his final months with Apollo to either mark himself with respect or destroy everything he has worked so hard to achieve. Years of witnessing the powers that lay dormant within him, Apollo naturally feared for the worse. Fearing for the worse, as he saw it, lead him to prepare for it, too. Whatever he was planning, he was sure to discover what it was even if that put him in danger once again. Cloaked by the shroud of his father, he would proceed with careful deliberation.

The tapestry in which held the spectacular celebration was in the northern area of the Temple. As Apollo predicted, or rather sourly anticipated, the corridors became more tightly packed as they approached the carriage that Dionysus has insisted that his gathering would held in. Gods and Goddesses, he hardly recognized lined up, trying to get a glimpse of what or whomever lied behind the closed curtains.

"Who do you think sent these letters?" one asked as Apollo passed quietly by them.

"I cannot say," another answered. "One that knows how to throw an excellent soiree."

"As long as it was not Hades, I do not care."

There was no doubt that Hades was the most hated God to ever roam the Mortal Realm. To have to be blessed with the mere mention of the infamously stolid soul that ever treaded the face of the earth was an accomplishment unlike no other. Apollo was profusely angry at Zeus' decision to give the man what had been seeking the position to rule over the Underworld over the expanse of the last twenty-thousand years. He spent quite a bit of time with the Headmaster over the summer. Before venturing to the Burrow, he had been invited to partake in some heavily complicated missions that resulted in the binary expansion of both Gods. It was not an easy feat, but once they tracked Horace Dionysus down, they were able accomplish exactly what Zeus had set out to do: to acquire a new _Potion's_ Professor; thus, giving birth to this endlessly fruitful hatred for a poor excuse for a man that's been his enemy since birth.

"Oh!" the Goddess beside him exclaimed. "There is Aeolus. Shall we greet him?"

His answer arrived quickly. There was no need to argue with the girl when he, too, fancied catching up with the God. Aeolus, over the course of the last few years, had found a remarkable outlet and even had an impressive number of followers. In his passage into adulthood, things have changed and truly for the better. No longer was he the subject for bullying between the Olympians; rather, he was a comrade and strong leader. He had grown beautifully into the position and Apollo could not be any prouder for him.

"Lesser God," the God gave him a wide smile," was wondering when you would grace us with your presence. Summer treated you alright?"

Apollo nodded, giving him a smile of his own as he reached out and shook his hand. Without warning, he was pulled into a one-armed hug.

Once Aeolus pulled away, he was able to tell him about his summer and the extraordinary circumstance that brought them to this union. The Moirai have been exceedingly kind to them; their endeavors had not been wasted once during the excursion that exhausted them no end. It was a different experience for everyone, something he very much grew to understand. Aeolus, as much as he was able to gather, was able to make a life-changing decision. He would not be placed in the shadow of his family, but follow the decision of his heart. Whatever outlet he found, he would no doubt have the undying support of his friends to help him get through it. As he spoke, a captured darkness filled the God's irises, catching Apollo completely off guard.

There was something in his eyes. Of course, Apollo knew. There was no wonder, so many people had been avoiding him. Avoiding meeting his eye, to gaze upon him or even speak to him. Thanatos was behind the allegations and testimonies; the Gods have not been entirely too kind to his dear friend. Whoever it was, he hoped they rotted in the cold scope of Tartarus for what they did.

"How is he?" he dared to ask, keeping his voice low.

"Much better," he told him, hoping that the strained smile would convince him of Eros' recovery.

Aeolus nodded acceptingly. No words transpired, however.

"I saw him earlier, as you know, though he did not seem all that well."

Apollo smiled. "Who else would come close to deserving the title?"

The God gave his friend a wide smile. "Of course. Did not get the chance to tell him, though. I am happy for him."

Wherever Artemis had run off to would remain a mystery. Instead of questioning her motives to leave them to their private gathering, the Gods greeted her with ease upon her arrival.

"Where did you go off to, Goddess?" Aeolus brought her into a tight hug.

Artemis waved a hand at Aeolus before stealing a glance over his shoulder. "Nowhere too far, I assure you. Besides, I just wanted to get a glimpse of the winner before he- "

With a sudden boom, the tapestry to their secret hall flew open and out stepped a towering, plump figure. A man with silvery mustache and balding head stepped forward as he tried to smooth down his very expensive robes with his rather chubby hands. He looked to be looking for someone, but before Apollo could figure out who, his eyes combed through the small crowd and landed on him.

"Apollo, m'boy!" he exclaimed joyfully.

Dionysus wasted no time in capturing the young God's hand and giving it several hard shakes. His body was racked with violent spasms for a fleeting moment before he settled back on solid ground. If he had known the older God had such a powerful grip, and even more power lying within his chubby body, he would have surely prepared himself better. Dionysus, as he was when he first met him with Zeus months ago, was just as in awe of him as he had been then. His ' _collection_ ', as he put it, was filled with only the most notable individuals to date, but what Apollo could not understand was why he was there amongst the famous. A woman he had never met had once been a part of his conflagration. A woman, Apollo solemnly thought, he would never meet. As Dionysus went around and greeted his guests, he forced the boiling rage to settle down. The thought of his mother being without him was a hard thing to accept, even now.

"So good to see you," Dionysus continued is overbearingly pleasant exchange with him. "As it is with you, I assure?"

"Of course," his voice was stiff as he busied himself with changing the attention to another student. Poor Aeolus was chosen to volunteer. "Have you met Aeolus?"

Dionysus eyed Apollo' House Mate with impeccable consideration. "Ah, yes. Aeolus, God of the Winds, is it?"

Aeolus nodded nervously. It was clear that he had no inkling as to what he had done to earn a spot in this evening's luncheon, but was still very thankful to have been invited regardless.

"Y-yes," the tall boy said in a low voice. Artemis had placed a gentle hand on his arm and he relaxed considerably, so much so that his next sentence came out strong and politely structured. "It is nice to meet your acquaintance."

The balding man nodded, slightly peevishly at the God's sudden change in demeanor. "Oh, yes, of course." He cleared his throat, ushering those who stood outside his compartment in. "The others have been expecting you. I am sure you will recognize a few of them if you put in your best interest. It is not every day that the houses of Olympus intermingle outside their respective branches. But, you will be civilized in my company, understood? No disruptions of any sorts, I am afraid."

It was not the Lower Branch that he should be advising to stay alert and respectful. When they were amongst snakes, there was a level of trepidation that had to be maintained. The Lesser Gods prided themselves by being respectful to their superiors, no matter whom it may be. Such an act was scarce nowadays, too. However, whilst they prided themselves on being respectable, the Olympians were notoriously known for their cunningness. They were always the ones to influence the subtle change in one's practice. From seeking out the implications of their conversation, riling the other branches, up and bringing out even the worst in all they passed, the Olympians were to blame for most, if not all conflicts. They truly lived up to insignia of their house but not the purity of their blood. That was another matter. Given that one simple fact, the two branches loathed each other on principle and held no patience when it came to unity.

From where Apollo stood, he could make out several familiar Olympians sitting around a small, round table inside the compartment. What looked like seven other brilliant deities, all of which had been invited to spend an hour or two with their new consort, came as a great surprise for Aeolus and Artemis. It was a fortunate meeting for Apollo.

Sitting stiffy right in front of him was Ares. He was a tall God with short curly hair, dark eyes, and an unreadable expression. His posture was incredibly stiff and as the students filed in, Apollo noticed something strange about his appearance. He narrowed his eyes on him as he took a seat between Aeolus and another God with golden hair. Ares remained quiet, his eyes never straying once from the compartment door. It was as if he was waiting for something, or waiting for a moment that would allow him to flee. But, from what? Apollo would very much like to know. Ares was known to be relatively quiet in public attendance. He never spoke out of term, but when he did, his choice of words was never pretty or conversation worthy. He spoke his mind, but it seemed that his mind was somewhere else. A hand of sort seemed to be gripping him tightly around his chest; his posture did not waver, even when the compartment door shut suddenly, and everyone's attention was brought to their host.

"I assume you know everyone?" said Dionysus as he took up much of the unoccupied space.

To know everyone would be an understatement. Although, some boundaries had forced them to be respectively distant to other Houses, the trio found themselves face to face with several acquainted individuals. All of which, of course, they've either knew through mutual friends or daily excursions that almost made it seem ritual in its undertaking. The most prolific of the branches had to be that of the Underworld; though, they were not surrounded by the venomous snakes of their domain. There were several others amongst the nobility. Apollo stared incuriously at some of them as if they were newly acquainted artifacts in a museum. He could not quite understand their involvement to this evening's festivities, nor did he care or wish to find out. As questionable as their credentials were, it did not seem to bother him in the slightest why Dionysus had taken a fondness to any of them. He would let that willow in its own unhurried smoke.

Apollo's eyes lingered on a few of them before his thoughts pulled him back to Ares. While he settled down, a spread of cheeses and meats began to appear on the table along with an assortment of other refreshments. Some members helped themselves to the light lunch items while others found it polite to wait for their host to sit and serve himself. His wanderings would no doubt be the death of him; a soliloquy of his mastering sounded inside him. There was something strangely off about Ares. Normally preserved and attentive to silence, his demeanor had changed. As if swept by the sweet whispering of something unknown, the young, nurtured man had been replaced with one restrained and refined by time. Something flashing darling the in foreboding notion that was his eyes. Apollo noticed this, and as Dionysus sat himself down at the head of the table, his decision was not only made but was already well underway. He would risk being killed to know what Hades was planning and if that meant being caught and bitten by a whole pit of snakes, then so be it. He would follow the God back to their throne.

"Well, now that we are all acquainted," Dionysus said liberally," let the celebration begin! And, remember, we are not only celebrating Eros in his victory, but Thanatos as well!"

The gettogether was dreadfully boring and uneventful. It was a quiet, dull affair and once the deserts appeared before them, Apollo was glad to see that the end of a long, tireless ordeal. As much as he preferred simpler company, he had gained quite the interesting entail on some of his fellow students. He was not one for derogatory or objectifying his own self-worth, but he found some of the things he learned quite endearing. Everyone seemed to have been invited solely on the lonely fact that they were connected to someone influential. All except Artemis, Ares and himself, of course. Apollo knew not of Dionysus's fascination toward him, and he did everything in his power to keep him from knowing.

Aside from that, the group learned a great deal about Ares, whom had a famously beautiful Goddess as a mother. From what he gathered, she had married seven times, all of which ended mysteriously when her consorts died, all leaving her mounds of gold in the wake of their unfortunate deaths. Except from an abnormal number of fatherly figures coming and going in his short life, Ares was a closed book. He did not divulge anything else that evening. By the time the sun had set, Dionysus had gotten through just about everyone, all except Apollo and Artemis. Obviously, he would save the best for last as he directed his attention to the young Goddess.

"Now, now," Dionysus teased, "do not be modest, Artemis. I found your abilities quite extraordinary to say the least. I have never seen anyone throw a hex to someone as quickly as you did. Might I add how very wrong of you to lash out like that. You shall not be warned again, Artemis."

Apollo could feel the tension radiating off the young girl but said nothing. He turned and found Ares holding back some sort of remark, which Artemis caught on to right away. Coming around Dionysus's great belly, she glared at the young Italian from the curve of their host's stomach.

"Do you have something to say, Ares?" she hissed venomously at the tall Slytherin. "Whatever it is, spit it out because your talent for _posing_ is unflattering, to say the least."

Dionysus had watched the exchange from the head of the table reproachfully before letting out an amused laughed.

"I would watch this one, Ares. I saw this young lady perform the most complex sort of hex whilst I was passing her circle earlier. I would not cross her if I were you."

Ares let out a daring growl before lifting his gaze away from her. Something was holding him back from breaking the silence that he had grown accustomed to.

"It was nothing extraordinary, Dionysus," an embarrassed Artemis countered. "Though, I admit I did have a very good reason for casting it. Some lowly God was giving me trouble and I just lost it."

"Lost it?" he dared to ask. "Well, whatever the reason I assume you will be careful from now on. Am I right, Ms. Weasley?"

She nodded, eyeing Ares with a smirk. "You're right. I would not want another person getting hurt for my inability to keep my anger under control. It shall not happen again, you have my word."

"I suppose it would not be the first time a witch has accidentally allowed their anger to get the best of them." He chuckled. "Or, should I say God. Am I right, Apollo? During our brief first meeting, you came entirely too close to let your anger overpower you."

Apollo snorted at that as Dionysus fondly recalled the memory. He had yet to tell him why he had chosen a Mortal house in the middle of nowhere instead of picking an exotic location somewhere in the Europe to gather stories and longue about all day. Zeus had mentioned something about him being in hiding; though, that was all he said. As vague as it was, he accepted the proposition that Dionysus simply did not want to be discovered. At any cost, he gathered quickly.

"I cannot say that was the only time it is ever happened. And, I am more than certain that it would no doubt happen again. One can only hope their able to control it to the best of their ability. Like Artemis said, I would not want someone else getting hurt and I do apologize that you were almost the victim of that anger."

"You cannot honestly believe that I would blame you for that, Apollo!" boomed the man. He gave a hearty laugh, which earned him a stealthy glare from Ares. "We cannot all be accounted for all the natural things that come from this world. Becoming angry and allow that to fester is surely one of those things, yes? Of course," the bulgy man continued, encouraging them all to turn to him abruptly. "Such rumors this summer, however. All of which, of course, linger around your dear friend, Chylyses. I have heard from several acquaintances that watch over that are in the Mortal realm. That the young God barely escaped the wrath of Aphrodite. I do hope he is not meddling with the Dark Arts, as a good handful of Gods before him have done." He visibly shuddered. "I, myself, would not know what to do, to be perfectly honest with you."

"He is fine." Apollo told him instantly, almost angered by his impoliteness. Evidently, he was testing the waters of his resolve otherwise he would not bother bringing it up. Thought Chylyses was treading on thin ice, his thoughts betrayed him. He _has_ been spending quite a bit of time with the Goddess. He even forgave her for the incident at his temple. "And, as I am sure, you would be wise not to mention it to her when you two do finally meet each other's acquaintances. She may be healing, but that does not mean she has forgotten. I do hope you understand, Dionysus."

The other's seemed very uncomfortable. All of a sudden, a coldness swept over them. Dionysus then retracted reluctantly from interrogating anyone else, having found the information he was told thus far more than enough to withstand the rigorous musing of his mind. Though, he would eventually get he wanted from Apollo. From the abrupt silence, Apollo knew that Dionysus meant well, but he did not appreciate how open he was with his declaration. The others were not supposed to know about what happened. Well, not in its entirety. For a lot of them, all they knew was that she got attacked and either prevailed or died of her injuries. As forbidden as it was, he would rather let them lead themselves to believe whatever felt right to touch. Sick as it was, if her death allowed them to sleep better at night, then so be it. He was not going to let other's talk to her in such a disgraceful way any longer.

"Well," the petite man said finally," it is getting rather late. Off you go, then. Eros should be arriving soon, and I do not think Zeus will allow me to partake in anymore wine until then." He gave a nod that meant to secure his own respective feelings.

In a flurry of rushed hurriedness, the group left the secured area one by one, leaving Apollo, Artemis and Aeolus to contemplate the last few moments of the conversation.

"He had no right to bring that up, Apollo." Artemis said softly. "You certainly cannot expect him to be as sympathetic as-"

"He should have kept his mouth shut." He said through a clenched jaw. "Especially in front of Ares. Gods knows he will go and tell Hades about this gathering. Last thing we need is for him to taunt us about the Stone.

"Do you believe he will tell him?"

He shook his head and gathered his thought. When he did, he turned to her and said," You would not understand. You were not there when Hades dismissed us from his Realm as nothing more as a last dying wish. He butchered the supposed memory, and walked over our shallow graves."

Artemis gave him a solemn look before they prepared themselves and departed the small enclosure. She said goodbye to the boys before drifting away down the corridor. Aeolus waited for her to disappear before speaking.

"Is that how it is, then?"

Apollo nodded quietly. "You should have seen him, Aeolus. Seen the scorn in his eyes as he dismissed us as nothing more than sullied souls."

If he ever seen the God before him angry, the look he was giving him looked like he wanted to kill. Aeolus did not hide his concern for him, either. Apollo watched quietly as he walked away, muttering inconsolably under his breath. When he finally vanished down the corridor, Apollo turned and was pleasantly surprised that Ares had stayed back. Acting as if he was going back to his own compartment, the God rummaged through his bag and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. As soon as he turned and began to walk, Apollo put it on and followed him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It is so GREAT to be back, and finally continue this amazing work. It's been so long since I was able to find the inspiration to sit down and write, but somehow, I did! Y'all will be thrilled to know that the next chapter is well underway. A beautiful scene between Thanatos and Psyche await you (bows elegantly). I think you will like the development. :) This is quite the masterpiece, and one of my New Years Resolutions is to finish this work (I don't care how long it takes, so long as it's be the end of 2018!), so I hope y'all are ready!

-Carolare Scarletus


	19. 19

_As always, enjoy_

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 _x-X-x_

 _Chapter Nineteen_

 _Opening the Forbidden Gate_

 _x-X-x_

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*~ Fated to be ours ~*

Ci credi nel destino

* * *

The sun shined down upon him, even though the enclosure of the canopy of his hiding spot was compromised. With a disgruntled sigh, Eros threw caution to the wind, stumbled out from behind the tapestry, and staggered over to the open arena of the room. There, he heard the showering announcement, indicating Zeus and Hera's arrival. He watched, figuring that it could not hurt his untarnished attendance. Seconds passed, and in a heavy dose of golden rain, they appeared. It was like an impressive gate had been opened; their presence captured him like none other. Eros lingered until they were just out of sight and wasted no time to escape as far as he could from the main hall. He took considerable note of the unintelligent murmurs escaping the mouths of the guests. Only one thought to dominant his mind.

Eros was very well connected to the God of Death. He knew the very reason for his swift disappearance just minutes after his victory, and in the serenity of his unspoken words, he knew that he could not face the music of Orpheus' lyre. Granted, Thanatos was a valuable component, but sometimes his overbearing ego got the best of him, even with the hands of Fate were not turned in his favor. His brusque departure did not go unnoticed; Eroz was determined to find the God before the night ended.

"I taught him everything he knows," boasted the Sun God, already on his third chalice of wine. Eros did not pay the God much attention as he was welcomed by the host of Olympus and patted on the back. Plastering a pleasant smile on his face, he greeted the guests, despite the pain that he felt from within, knowing that Thanatos was having a hard time with the development.

"Not a chance in all of Olympus," came the boisterous reply of their host. "Eros has come a long way since his last spar with the God of Death, and I doubt that you are the cause of his impressive victory."

Apollo scoffed, downed the rest of his drink, and said," Of course, you would not acknowledge my superior powers!" He turned swiftly to badger another group of Gods, to whom welcomed the drunk one with open arms.

Eros listened halfheartedly to the compliments paid to his performance. If Gods ever seen him truly honored, nothing could have prepared them for what they saw. He resembled a blazing bonfire in the middle of nowhere. Cracking and hissing, his skin came to life at their light teasing; Eros silently thanked the Gods for the terribly lighting in the grand hall, otherwise they surely would not have missed the faintly colored tint of embarrassment gracing his cheeks.

"I believe that is enough," fiery-haired Goddess huffed, attempting to assuage their voracious laughter. A daring God came and boldly wrapped his arms around her slim waist, tucking her securely to his side.

"Fear not, beautiful. We are only teasing."

Of course, this did not settle well with her. She clearly hated to be teased. Even Eros knew when it was safe to throw in the towel.

"Where is your opponent?" one of the Gods asked bravely. "He is not paying homage to the night, is he? Sulking under the stars is quite the invigorating activity, is it not?"

"Be silent," the Goddess hissed.

The Gods were immediately thrown into another fit of laughter. "Oh, my apologies, Persephone. I did not mean for you to take offense, seeing that you are bonded with the most notorious Gods of the Underworld. Your association with him would warrant such fierce feelings toward Death."

"That is not why I am calling for you to cease your words, Ares."

The God of War smirked.

"Well, then. Why are you?"

"I fear that he may be listening," she murmured, looking around. The gem took it upon herself to ensure the safety of their group before darting her eyes back at the God joining her this evening.

Ares barked. "Nonsense! Thanatos is less likely to accept the offerings of a party, much less grace us with his presence than Apollo is to stop drinking!"

"Persephone," a lovely voice rung out, pulling her from her thoughts. The Goddess looked up, and they find themselves being basked in the perpetual shroud of natural beauty of Hestia

"Yes?" she sung back, happily. It truly did feel that the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was now free to do whatever she pleased, and without having to worry about something coming to harm her. "Has anyone ever told you-"

"-that I have a _lovely_ singing voice?" she mused, another laugh erupting from her. "Yes, I have been told that my voice resembles that of the muses."

"I was not going to say that," Persephone laughed as her consort wrapped an arm around her waist. "My apologies, Eros. I must take my leave! Again, I congratulate you on your victory."

Ares frowned as the lovely beauty pulled away from him, kissed Eros on the cheek, and was swept away by the mystical allure of light.

"Was I not that entertaining for her?"

"Fear not, Ares," Eros snickered playfully. "I am sure there is a Goddess somewhere that would be more than willing to fall for your charms."

"Until then, I always say practice makes perfect," another countered with a laugh.

Eros allowed the lull of the party fade away into the background of his thoughts, taking permanent residence there. He excused himself politely from the group, bidding them farewell before finding a spot to which he could relax in peace. He declined every offer asked of him preferring solitude. As he sat, he watched half-aware of the scene as it unfolded: Naked bodies danced invitingly around him, circling the large space of Zeus' grand throne room. The soothing sound of the harp eased his conscious, something that the wine that he partook in was doing a horrible job of eliciting. Though the cushions were soft against his naked torso, as was the body that pressed into his side with such obvious urgency that he had to bite his lip from groaning, he could not help feeling suffocated by such closeness. Solitude was the truest gift; he only wished that his counterpart was having a better time than he was.

"Simply divine, Eros," another Goddess came to congratulate him as he idly swirled his drink. The God of Love was sitting in a small area, thinking to himself when a group of envious watchers came to greet him. Zeus' temple was alive with the sound of harps, the soft murmurs of flutes and conversation. Eros had come to the little corner for solitude, something that he knew that his counterpart had done so on the balcony. Alas, he was found. "It is nothing less than that I would have expected of you."

Eros tossed back the remainder of his drink and gaze the Goddess a dazzling smile. The Goddess to his side wrapped an arm around his torso, her breasts pushing up against his chest. He did not acknowledge her in the slightest, having found a better muse than anything that she could provide. "Your statement is bold. How generous of you. Thank you."

The Goddess was not the only one to swing by to congratulate him; Hera herself could not refrain from celebrating his victory, replaying it in her consort's Golden Pensieve for all to watch. A roar of awe spread through the large entertainment room, filling the surrounding forest and courtyard with the splendor of delight and acclamation that the mortals stopped their own activities, and wondered of the Gods on Olympus. Eros quickly grew bored, finding solitude from the moment he stepped foot in Zeus' temple in the corner of the room, drinking until his senses became numb. The hours dragged by slowly, until he found he no longer wanted to be a part of such mockery. Eventually, when it all became too much, he moved and settled himself in another corner, perceptually far from the partyers as possible. That is, until a watchful Goddess found him at last. Since then, she has refused to leave.

Eros' heart hammered loudly behind his ribs. Looking up, he was met with the prolific view of the good Samaritan that saved him. She was an older Goddess with golden hair. Her skin was pale even in the light of the late afternoon. Wearing a dark dress, a golden necklace and headdress, she presented herself with full confidence. In fact, there was not an inkling of disagreement, only amusement. Eros wanted to thank her but thought better of it. Even the urge to say something was vanquished when he had gotten a clear visual of her haunting eyes; he always thought cerulean eyes were beautiful until now.

Hera smiled fondly at him as she settled into the cushions on the other side of him. A beautiful woman danced in front of them, her eyes lingering a bit too long on some choice places. Eros did not bother to give the girl much attention. "I am simply expressing my appreciation. You have come a long way since I have last seen you."

"Again, you are too kind, but I am sure the others have enjoyed our spar, as well. Have you congratulated Thanatos? I am certain he would love it if you graced him with your presence, Hera."

The Goddess gave him a skeptical look. She bit her lip and looked all around them. "I have not seen him…"

"Try the balcony." He suggested, watching as his chalice refilled itself. It was this kind of magick that frightened him the most. Eros looked up toward the crowd, his eyes scanning the provincial area. He knew that Thanatos was hiding, and it was only a matter of time before he sought out his company. "You know he does not like crowds."

Hera stiffened. "You dare ask me to find the God of Death unaccompanied?"

"He is nothing to be afraid of."

"Says you," she scoffed, bringing her hand to her face. She played with a strand of her hair. "I wanted to speak to him earlier to tell him how inspired I was by his performance. You two always have riveting battles, but he was not in the mood for conversation. I believe he is quite bitter. I must ask what you did to him."

"I did not do anything," Eros lied.

The Goddess giggled. "Alright then." She leaned back against her cushions and relaxed. "I am pleased," Hera stated smoothly.

Eros quirked an eyebrow, questioningly.

"I thought you were never going to show up," the Goddess elaborated. "As a formality, I would like to commend you on your victory. I do not remember seeing such an invigorating spar. Well, not since your last tournament with Thanatos. One would think not having as many victories would eradicate the need to train, but you have proven me, as well as many others, wrong."

The God of Love frowned. "Training?" he asked, warily. "You have doubted my abilities?"

She shook her head. "Not doubted." Hera told him with fondness. "I was simply looking out for you. Come, I wish to speak to you alone."

Eros scanned the vicinity, wondering why the Goddess wished to humor him with his presence. Not one to decline an offer to bask in his light, he readily agreed, and the two soon found themselves alone, and on the outskirts of the fabulous party. Just as the two grew comfortable, a swarm of doves came swooping into the Great Hall. The beat of their combined wings galloped across the vastness as the audience went quiet and watched the travelers swoop in, delivering their alluring song. To both their surprise, a group of divine women came prancing in, their skins scripted dark indigo.

"Ah, are they not simply captivating?" Hera laughed, delightedly. "Granted, I do not think I have ever seen such an alluring sight. What say you, Eros?"

He turned, watching as the women danced, coming to a sharp end before their transformation back into their mother forms took hold. The doves quickly soared into the air, formed a circle, and dived back into the unknown from whence they came.

"It must be a gift from my dear husband," she said happily. "Has he spoken to you yet?"

Eros nodded," But, only briefly. I do not think he was much for conversation tonight.

Hera's eyebrows furrowed worryingly. "That is rather unlike him…. True to his caring nature, I suspect he will be around to at least greet you properly before the night ends."

"Hopefully, it is before Apollo finds drunken entertainment in your hallowed halls."

Hera choked back a laugh. "By the Gods! Apollo is rather enthusiastic, but I did not think he would sink so low!"

"There are things that escape even your notice, Hera."

"I see." The Goddess said, pausing for a moment. She frowned as Eros quietly watched the last of the doves fly out of view. While she seemed to be oblivious to the obvious tension, Eros was not.

The air between them suddenly turned dark.

"The reason I have asked you to accompany me is because I have my suspicions that Thanatos might be tapping into Dark Magick."

"I know Thanatos," he told her calmly. There was sort of a deep-seated respect for the God coming forth from his words. Eros had to be careful not to tell Hera something that he knew she would not keep private. "He is not the monster you all think him to be."

"He is the God of Death, Eros," Hera whispered, looking toward the balcony that they both knew he resided. "People have been talking about you two. Curious, really."

"What have they been curious about?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Why did you throw the tournament?" Hera asked, inquiring about the spar from earlier.

Eros remained quiet, not knowing how to answer her derogatory question.

How _dare_ she even suggest that he threw the tournament? He could still feel the powerful allure of the magick. As he sat, intoxication slowly creeping over him in a malevolent serenade, his fingers tingled with the incredible source to which he yet to understand. His thoughts travelled back to his opponent, and the obvious use of Dark Magick. He knew that Thanatos had enlisted the help of someone, though, he did not imagine that his trials would bring him to the one individual whose suited profession would allot him the pleasure of tapping into the unknown. Dark Magick, even in these times, was forbidden; Thanatos, of all people, should understand the consequences of using it. If anything, he should be skeptical of the Moirai, practically daughters of Death themselves.

He knew he had sensed something considerable different about the God of Death during their battle, but never in his wildest dreams did he think that his suspicions would be proven right, especially by Hera, no less.

"Of course, I had my suspicion." Hera continued to divulge. "I am sure you did, as well."

Eros sighed, defeated. "I did not wish to believe such terrible feelings."

"I do not blame you, Eros." The God said softly. "I fear it might have been another's doing. Has Thanatos spoken to you at all? Has he been troubled by anything, secretive in any way?"

"Nothing of the sort has transpired between the two of us." Thanatos frightened him. Even more so than he normally did. What made matters worse was that he allowed him to touch her, to defile her with the uncanny spiritual essence of the damned. Whatever had happened to the Slytherin Prince had come to at a cost, possibly his own sanity and life. Somewhere deep down, she felt for him. The cruelty of the matter, the perpetual fondness residing within the corrupt stiches of his skin- was the outcome even worth it?

Hera' eyes flickered over to him for a moment as they watched the banter between the throngs of cheerful dancers. The higher Goddess waved her hand before her, and they were cloaked in a secret veil of silence.

She shook his head. "I do not wish to believe that Hephaestus was the reason behind the unrelenting power I felt, though I am sure he would never admit that to me." Hera narrowed her eyes, something she always done when she was not completely truthful or amiable with her musings. "However, I cannot dismiss what I felt. I am sure that you found how… devouring Dark Magick can be?"

Eros could not lie. "The sample I was given was quite addicting." Then, he paused. "Do you truly believe that he was tampering with it? Perhaps he out a source of help?"

Hera nodded her head. "Yes, well, that is where my concern begins. Thanatos is a powerful deity, Eros. Just as you are, he is still relatively young, and does not know where his place is within our intricate system. Mortals fear and cherish him; he dwells in the dank Underworld, and he has never been able to hold true to anything other than what he believes is the proper way of life. What I am trying to divulge to you is that I believe someone is trying to dissuade him by luring him with promises of power and riches." Hera concluded her mortifying speech, shaking her head. Eros watched eagerly as she grazed her fingertips over the ring on her finger. Just as he did, he whispered something meant for her ears only, and the ring vanished.

He knew Hera was right, but he could not keep himself from wanting to know every little thing that Thanatos could possibly know about the powers of Dark Magick aside from his own. He was known to keep a tight inventory and wealth of knowledge on both Mortal and Immortal scriptures. Anything they needed, they could count on her to provide, by why did he feel as if she had no idea that these tragedies were occurring? For some reason, their interception had been tampered with from the moment Dumbledore left with Tonks, giving them no inclination as to what happened after their departure. What could they have possibly wanted to keep under wraps until such a time would become appropriate?

The God of Love thought for a moment. Was there someone trying to control the God? A strange since of foreboding swept over him, but this time he did not brush it off as he has always done. Eros shook his head; it was clear that the subject of Dark Magick had reached a staggering level of agitation with him. He had to speak to him. Trying to get Thanatos to not do something had been destined to fail from the very beginning. As he settled with the elusive idea of persuading the God to divulge the rights of his mind, Hera gathered before him, demanding his attention.

"Tell me about the Moirai, Hera." Eros lifted his chalice and took a nice, long pull of the warm liquid. No amount of it could provide him with the courage he needed, yet, he decided right then and there that it could not harm him. "I know you are knowledgeable, my dear."

More often than not, flattery was an ability that prove to elude him at every turn. Hera was just as gullible as any other Goddess, however. Throwing her hair over her shoulder and eyeing the girl clinging to his body, she spoke of the deities that long since proven to be a difficult subject for Eros.

"What of the Moirai, Eros?" she asked, giggling. "They are an… interesting subject."

"Enlighten me, Goddess." He asked of her. "Now that we are on forbidden subjects, it would only be right of you to answer my question."

Hera smirked, took a pull of her wine, before inclining her head ever so slightly. "What would you give me in return?" Her eyes travelled the taut valley of his torso, before landing not so subtly below the belt of his chiton, while running her tongue over her bottom lip. "I assure you that my insight does not come without a price."

His eyes darkened slightly at the provocative tone in which her voice took. Hera, like so many, would do anything in exchange for what the other wanted.

Sex included.

Even the heart was not a sacred item anymore.

Reading the atmosphere, Hera frowned and said," You are no fun, God," before sighing and throwing her head back against the plush pillows. "Very well, I shall tell you. Perhaps, one day, you will fall for my trickery. Until that day comes… I shall live with that hope and my dreams!"

Completely disregarding the Goddess' outburst, Eros prepared himself for the tale she was about to share.

"The Moirai are the three Goddesses of Fate, little God." she began. "And, are the personification of the inescapable destiny of man. They assigned every person their fate, or share in the great scheme of life. Together, they represent the past, present, and future, and are three forces not to be reckoned with. With every birth, they are seen spinning, measuring, and cutting the thread of life. One may speculate that they are beyond the creation of such darkness that resides in your little friend."

"That does not quall any inquiries I have with them, Hera."

"What do you wish to know, Eros?" the Goddess smirked.

Eros stiffened, a rare sense of shock befalling him.

He paused his search, turning to look at Hera's miserable face. Of course, he was thinking about his friend. Not that he would admit just how distressed he was about the tournament.

"How can you be so certain," he asked instead.

"Eros," the Goddess began, her voice thick with seriousness," there is nothing in this world that I cannot speak so highly of, and not have it warrant an ounce of my concern. I fear a disproportion of powers ending our world. We have all felt it, God."

"So, it has begun, Eros stated with an uncertainty that Hera knew he has never expressed. "The Prophecy is coming true? Has Zeus sent word out?"

"My husband is under the impression that nothing of the sort is going on. His Pensieve has not forewarned him about anything, but I suspect that Hades is behind the strangeness corrupting the world."

"What strangeness?"

"Floods, famines, war- the Gods cannot continue to lend a hand to the Mortals if it continues. There is something that Hades did not have last time, and he will trample everyone who stand in his way to get it."

"I-," he began, his sadness catching in his throat. After all this time, he still worried over his dear friend, fearing the absolute worst every time he was able to look into the Pensieve of the world. He was sure she had been scared when she read the articles. Who wouldn't be? Eros certainly would if the maniac who attacked her was targeting black-haired males who wore glasses, that is.

They were both worried. Thanatos may not be the type to express his feelings or convey them in an understandable way, but Eros knew that he was scared, that he was terrified and anxious about the approaching day. It would be a lie to say that they were not the least bit concerned about how he would react to waking up to unfamiliar surroundings. No matter how many times he visited, stayed for celebrations, suddenly waking up somewhere one was not expecting would stress even the most centered of men. Knowing Thanatos as well as he did, Eros knew that she would no doubt act horrendously negative to waking up to an otherwise welcoming and secured environment.

Eros exhaled a breath he was unaware he had been holding. His thoughts drove him to the brink of madness because he did not wish to believe the mounting evidence presented to him. There had to be a mistake; Thanatos was not trying to abuse the natural order of the universe by using Dark Magick.

"I just still cannot believe it." he confessed to Hera. "I do not know what I am seeking." His face was a ghastly shade of white. Eros opened his mouth as if to talk, but he quickly closed his mouth when the words did not form or come forth in the correct way that he wanted. A bright light illuminated the small, comfortable room. Blotches of red impaired Eros's vision, momentarily blinding him in a stream of marron and orange.

Hera turned, explaining," Sometimes, you do not know what you are missing."

Eros nodded. "Of course." He turned to face her. "Do you really believe that Thanatos has marked a path for darkness?"

The Goddess considered him for a moment, before exhaling sharply and looking away. "It may seem so."

"How can you be certain?"

"You have been looking in the wrong place, Eros." Hera said softly. "I will speak to Hephaestus about the matter. As for you, I would keep a careful eye on Thanatos."

"What can I do to ensure that he does not do anything rash?"

"Watch him." The Goddess proposed with a tilt of her head. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked around.

"I wish for you to watch him." Hera finally told him. "Watch him, and ensure that he does not do anything foolish, especially something that he would undoubtedly regret. The gift of Love was rightfully given to you, and I know that you were blessed and only given this life to bestow that special affection on another to redeem them."

In that instant, Eros knew that Hera was gifting him with a valuable task.

Truly honored, he accepted and drew into the lonely arms of night.

* * *

Thanatos stared out at the horizon, and for an inexplicable moment he was one with the stars. Twilight had finally arrived, sending the lights to scatter and the adjoining Gods and Goddesses to celebrate the end of the Games. Everything was so different on the surface world; there were no lost souls trying to grab hold of his cloak, no disembodied voices or irked silence only punctured by the terrified howl of the trapped souls. He looked out, transfixed as he recounted the game. Although it had been a very exciting example of their power, Thanatos could not help feeling cheated. He had poured his entire being into winning, but it had been Eros who came out as the victor. Upon reflection, he let out a growl, downed the rest of his wine, and banished the damnable glass. Nights like these reminded him why he was alive, but he could not help feeling dead to the world. As long as there was hope, he would live forevermore.

The night air was heavenly on his sweaty skin. As the breeze rocked against him, Eros's mind brought him to the moments leading up to his awakening. He had been dreaming about something. The room was dark, cold, and airy. Iron bars held him captive, and even know he could just make out the faint blur of the moon behind the thick clouds.

He shivered as he remembered the strange scenery. How could something so unfamiliar seem so surreal? Had he really been there at the scene of the crime, or was it a figment of his overactive imagination?

The scene before him dissolved as easily as it had formed. As he stared into the void of early morning, he could still feel the torment that had been inflicted upon him for his indiscretion and failure. Hearing the screams that escaped and pushed against the closing walls of the cell and image had placed a burden and fear unbeknownst to him until then. Struggling to bite back another wave of pain that scorched his blistering skin, Eros pressed the overwhelming emotion of anger and detest long enough to calm down and take a deep breath. Relaxation swept over him, dousing the pain in his forehead. It was a relief he was truly content of finding.

He had gotten out completely unscathed, but not without warranting the watchful eye of something that he could not see and would most definitely follow him to even the most desolate of places. Whoever this strange deity was, he was no stranger to the richer and finer things a truly wasteful life could bring. Whatever his reason was for appearing to him in his dream, Eros was determined to figure it out because it had not been the first time he witnessed such cruelty. It would not be the last, either. However, whoever they were, Eros knew he would be careful with his journeys from now on. That was a given, especially after how angry he had become after discovering that Eros had been there the entire time, or most of it. Despite the occurrences, he could not remember ever detail no matter how much he willed his mind to gather those missing pieces. The only thing he had to act on was the small, insignificant pieces he managed to procure and safeguard. If that was to evade him, he did not know what he would do.

Eros opened his eyes, having only realized that he had extinguished the sense of sight as to allow him to deal with the pain and scene that he just witnessed. Flashes of the nightmare appeared like a dreamy interlude, one that would surely haunt him even in the coming days and morning. He did not want to go back to sleep, having found it hard to do so knowing what awaited him once he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Instead, he allowed himself to ponder.

His master was not pleased, but his leniency for disrupting his plans had not been taken lightly and without heart. Whoever they were, they had made the man's instructions absolutely clear. It was still a huge mystery as to what the unseen deity had asked of him. Eros had the strangest feeling that there was more than met the eye and that he was more involved than he could possibly know or understand.

During his other nightmares, he had been unable to gather the faintest of clue as to whom, or what they were planning. Hopefully, once enough time has passed, he'll be able to have his most desired questions answered. He just prayed his one source of ultimate knowledge was not too damaged and scared to face anything as frightening and horrific as thing she faced.

Breaking away from the haunting images that had taken more of his dream time than he would have liked, he focused all his remaining depleted energy on the morning that had yet to come. A faint, glowing light had emerged from its slumber, bringing new light to a long-awaited day. It was not quite time for the day to begin as there was still darkness surrounding the humble home of the Weasley's. It was very early in the morning. Dawn would soon peak above the horizon and wake earth's residence. As his mind raced like a million stallions racing to the finish line, he hardly noticed a dark figure shifting behind him. He continued to stare out the window for quite some time until the figure behind him found the courage to speak.

"I thought I would find you out here," Eros said, approaching him from afar and bearing him the extension of sportsmanship.

The God of Death did not look at him. Instead, he kept his gaze leveled with the line of the horizon. It was there he found home, and just when he was about to escape to it as he has always done, Eros came up and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. This made him angrier.

"Remove your hand, God."

"So, you can just leave without talking to me?" Eros said and shook his head. "I do not think so."

Zeus was the monarch of extravagant celebrations. The whole of the white theater was covered in gold and all of Gaia's flowers. From the floor to the high ceiling, nothing was not made to be of exceptional state. Music rang from all around then; food and wine were served by naked participants, their skin licked and teased with the tongues and lips of the Gods and Goddesses. As the God of Death walked, trying his best to vacant the premises before indulging on the finer things that seduced him, he found instant refuge on the veranda of the God of Gods' palace.

Mount Olympus was an extraordinary sight. Rising high above the mortal realm, their citadel was the epitome of strength and symbolized something that he just could not obtain.

Thanatos looked to the horizon. Apollo's damnable chariot was making way across the sky, swallowing up the sun as Selene spit out her treacherous moon in his wake. The two deities chased one another, and as always, Apollo won the race. He subjected himself to the long expanse that was thought, to which took him on various expeditions before arriving to a startling conclusion that he was too self-absorbed to admit. Eros had fought admirably, and though he won the battle, the God of Love had finally won the war.

"I do hope you are not playing the role of a sour loser," he quipped playfully. He need not turn to know that he was smirking. He could hear it in the words he spoke. "Do not freight, my old friend. A day will come when you can earn your wings and stand among the big boys."

It took every fibre not to turn and swing at the insolent God. Instead of tapping into that unbridled rage, he turned and glared at him.

"Must you taunt me every time you get past me?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Do no play coy! You cheated! You asked the God of Fire to forge a sword powerful enough to defeat me!" Thanatos did not deny the accusation and continued to listen to his heated words. "You tampered with _magick_."

"So, what if I did?"

"Hera told me of the Moirai," Eros told him gently. "Hephaestus forged the very weapon that I inevitably took down."

"Do you realize how forbidden it is?" Eros said, concerned. "You have brought an imbalance to the world."

"I, alone, did no such thing."

Thanatos stared into oblivion. Having been falsely executed of tampering with the balance of the world, he watched for himself the supposed destruction that his tampering brought. There was none, as he suspected.

A slender figure emerged from the columns of Zeus' temple. She was a small thing, who blended into the opal face of their host's dwelling.

"What is this talk of cheating?" a sultry voice called out. The two Gods turned to find an unwanted guest.

Aphrodite and her temple Goddess, Hero had come out of hiding. The beautiful women strolled over to them, and the Goddess of Love looked down from their high temple and smirked, watchinf as Thanatos stole away into the night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Goodness, this took longer than expected, and I apologize *bows head*. I recently started a new job (Nail Technician!), and the hours are quite long. This chapter was basically finished, but I couldn't create a good writing schedule that would allow me to get a decent amount of sleep and allow me to finish my other WIP's. I'm currently participating in a House Competition, and if I'm not scrambling to submit all three of my entries, I'm freaking out over something! I'll figure it out, though! Promise! Chapter 20 is half way finished; y'all will see a smoldering interaction between Psyche and Thanatos. We have one more chapter of 'flashbacks', if you will, before things go back to the present time. I think y'all will either hate me for what is going to happen, or love me. Either way, be prepared :)

 _As always, enjoy_

-Carolare Scarletus


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